Friends and Enemies
by StealthWriter
Summary: Crossover story between "The Real Adventures of Jonny Quest" and "Batman The Animated Series." Someone is causing trouble in Gotham City and one of the world's leading scientists happens to be in town. Friends and enemies meet for the first time and Gotham becomes a battleground.
1. Prologue

Author's Note: As the summary suggests, this is a crossover story between "The Real Adventures of Jonny Quest" and "Batman: The Animated Series," two very popular (and awesome) cartoons of the 1990s.

I do not own or claim rights to any of the characters, which are property of Hanna-Barbera and DC Comics.

**Prologue**

Someone new was crawling around in the city. His city. He thought it started last autumn, but he couldn't be sure. Whoever it was wanted to stay underground, and was good at doing so. There weren't any new turf wars lighting up the night. No maniacal announcements into greedy news cameras. Not even rumors whispered among the foot soldiers of crime, looking for work. Someone was lurking in his city, nurturing deep, unseen connections in Gotham's underworld. He didn't like that at all.

Unfortunately, what he thought might be a good lead turned out to be a dead end. Batman opened his fist and let the miscreant's body fall limply to the wet pavement. When a policeman's searchlight flashed down the alley seconds later, it had only one occupant, and he wasn't going anywhere fast.


	2. Travel Plans

Benton did not like Gotham. He had been chased by a bull moose in the Alaskan wilderness, his immune system ravaged by rare diseases in the tropics, and his family terrorized by dictators in the furthest corners of the globe. Still, on a given day, he would rather travel to those places. His famous objectivity died on the polluted shores of the Gotham River. The museums were world-class, the architecture stunning, and the scientific industries fiercely competitive, but Gotham's reputation overshadowed these accomplishments. It was a proven breeding ground for the corrupt, the vicious, and the criminally insane.

This did not disturb Benton so much as his sense that Gotham residents accepted this. Much like Spartans taking fierce pride in their warrior culture and austerity, denizens of Gotham took pride in their ability to survive in a city that forged the best and the worst the world had to offer. Benton was an eternal optimist and, deep down, he wasn't sure if Gotham _wanted _to be better. But, ever the diplomat and scholar, he tried to keep an open mind.

"Are you sure you have to go?" asked Race, voicing Benton's own doubts. "They must have a whole team of scientists looking into this. I never feel easy in that snake-pit of a city."

Benton could always count on Race to state his opinion plainly, making it easier for himself to counter with his usual optimistic response, whether or not he truly felt it.

"Gotham corporations fund some of the most innovative applied science laboratories in the world, Race. The city has a rich history and amazing cultural attractions. The opera is ranked third in the world and I know how much you appreciate their street food. There really is no other city like it in the world."

Race's frown deepened. "Don't give me the run around, Benton. I've seen you look more excited about trips to disaster zones. You don't want to go."

Benton sighed. "Gotham would not be my first choice for a trip. But this is a personal favor and the research in question has great potential in the medical community." He was still trying to convince himself and added, "Millions of people make an honest living there."

Race raised an eyebrow. "The response to that is so obvious that I'll pass."

Benton was glad they were talking in his office. He used it for business meetings, phone calls, and writing reports, which meant of course that he loathed it. But the impressive wooden desk and the array of diplomas hanging on the walls gave him more leverage when talking business.

"I think we should all go," he said, watching for Race's reaction.

His long-time bodyguard and friend scowled. "In my professional opinion, that is not a good idea. Maybe you've forgotten that the last time we went to Gotham you came back with a fractured elbow and I ended up taking a swim in Gotham Harbor."

"And I might remind you that the Dragonfly is currently running on a propulsion system courtesy of Wayne Aeronautics and that you were easily distracted from the entire misadventure by a certain photo-journalist."

Race refused to be cheered. "The boys—." He stopped and corrected himself. "This entire family can get into trouble on a sunny spring day, as Estelle once told me. Let's at least do some preemptive damage control. You and I will go and I'll call in some extra help for the week."

Benton began to shake his head but Race continued. "Then I'll stay and send some I-1 with you."

"No, Race. I feel like we've had this conversation hundreds of times but we keep switching the roles. This family attracts trouble whether we're in the same house or on different continents. We'll lay ground rules to prevent the boys from wandering through Gotham's sewers in search of adventure."

"Or giant cats," Race grunted. Both men sighed in the face of reality: Ground rules never helped. Race looked back at Benton, "Why the family vacation?"

Benton spread his hands, "I want to spend as much time as possible together before the summer ends. I want the boys to experience new places and I think they will be able to help me with the ciphering. And Jonny… has expressed an interest in Gotham State." Benton's pride was obvious.

"Jonny at Gotham?" Race asked in disbelief. Before Benton could think he was questioning Jonny's intelligence, he added, "You're making me feel old Benton."

"Surely Jessie has been looking at schools."

"Yeah, but she's had things mapped out since she was eleven. Jonny's different."

Benton nodded in agreement. His boy was growing up fast.

"Is he serious about Gotham?" Race asked.

Benton laughed, knowing exactly what Race was thinking. Jonny Quest living in unpredictable Gotham City seemed like a situation that even the President would have to know about. "No, he isn't serious about Gotham. Not yet, at least. He just happens to know that Gotham State has a cutting-edge computer engineering program. I figure a visit is in order."

Race grunted. "A family trip it is. I'm not sorry Jess is with Estelle."

"For a man who never had to sit through a college mathematics course, you have a firm grasp of exponential power when it comes to our children and trouble, Race. I'm sorry to say, though, that you're a little off when it comes to social calendars. Jessie returns partway through our trip. She is more than welcome to join us in Gotham or come here for some quiet and distance from us boys."

"You've talked to me more than once about the chaos theory, Doctor, but I think I'll stick my oar in anyway. I think Jessie needs a bit more quality time with her mother."


	3. In the Cave

"What did you find?"

"Good to see you too." Robin was too used to his mentor's moods to take offense, but he did take his time parking his bike and removing his helmet. Only when he was sitting down at the second computer terminal did he begin his report. Batman disliked the delay. This, too, was normal.

Robin typed as he talked, pulling up police records and surveillance to match his report. "He's definitely involved and some of the people working for him have criminal records. He's a slick character and I doubt we'll find anything tied to him that will stand up in court."

"Facts, not speculation."

Robin bit back a sigh. Batman had been worse than usual lately. Yes, someone was mucking around in his city, but what was new about that? And yes, it was harder than usual to track this new enemy. The people they had interrogated didn't know anything and the people they monitored were really good at appearing legit. Even this usually didn't phase Batman, master detective that he was. Not for the first time, Robin wondered if Bats already knew something about this new enemy and was holding back. If that was the case, he knew from experience that pushing Batman to open-up rarely ended well. Robin slipped deeper into reporting mode and buried his own frustration with his mentor.

"Dennis Banks, suspected arms dealer, has been living in Gotham for at least three years. He has two known residences, one in Gotham Village and one near Tricorner. No known living family. They don't technically live with him, but he always has two or three bodyguards on hand in each of his apartments." Batman already knew this, which is exactly why Robin included it in his thoroughly _factual_ report.

"Records for these guys range from clean to suspected homicide. Only a few have done time, and those are low level enforcers. His higher ranks are clean. 'Business associates' we might be interested in include Rupert Thorne and Jazzman Jimmy Peake, although officially he's never been seen in the same room with either of them."

"History?"

"Only rumors beyond what's in the system, which has the bleached smell of a government cover-up. Born in Seattle, married in California, wife died a few years later in a bridge collapse near Sacramento. A lot of people, even a lot of low-lifes, actually believe Banks is a legitimate businessman in the medical tech industry. Finances and his everyday movements back this up. He's also a well-known face at charity events and has many supporters for his corporate program of donating used medical equipment to third world countries."

"Sending free medical supplies to disaster areas is an easy way to move his guns and black market supplies."

"Exactly. Not to mention there are usually plenty of buyers in war zones, and he gets a tax write-off. Gordon's been keeping an eye on him but hasn't turned up anything yet. Whenever the police get close, the cargo disappears along with some of the key players. Some local agency heads think this means he has connections to old-school information networks."

"New buyers or suppliers?"

Robin shook his head, knowing what Batman was after. "No one by name. But there has definitely been a shift in business. Old-time buyers are grumbling about Banks ignoring their own requests. He's putting in a lot of time with the new player in town." Finished, Robin looked over at Batman.

"You didn't get any leads on the transactions?" The reproach in his town was obvious.

Robin got up and stalked toward the changing room, already peeling off his gloves. "It's not like they wink and pass coded notes like they did in the _Grey Ghost_. Tracking down disgruntled weapons dealers is easy. Finding out how he's organizing the deals is not. Banks talks to or meets with at least seventy people a day. Half of them are guys we're on a first name basis with in our night jobs, and the other half are people you pretend to like at your high-society parties. Everyone's suspect. My pictures are uploaded. I have to study for a make-up exam I slept through last week."

Batman brooded in the silence long after Dick left, his mind racing through various scenarios. Despite his expression, he was satisfied that they now might have a lead. Crime had even been down the last few months, but that just made him more anxious. Not for the first time, he wondered if Ra's al Ghul had a part in whatever was going on. He was still in his chair when the bats began to return from their nocturnal hunt.


	4. Flying to Gotham

"I think now, when we're 30,000 feet up and you can't possibly get away, is a good time to go over the ground rules."

Jonny rolled his eyes and began swiveling his chair around like he was ten years old. "Dad," he said, drawing the word out in an exaggerated whine. His brother smirked at the familiar antics.

"The sooner we go over this, the sooner we can talk about the rest of the trip."

Jonny released another exaggerated sigh. "Don't leave the hotel without an adult. Don't go off with strangers. Keep your phone with you at all times." He dropped the act for a second. "You do realize that I'm legally going to be an adult next year. When will you trust us to be off on our own?"

"Like that's ever stopped us," mumbled his brother, low enough so only Jonny could hear it.

Benton peered at his sons, suspecting what had caused their sly smiles. As usual, he was not able to prove anything. He continued in his best long-suffering-father voice. "This isn't Portland, boys. This is Gotham City."

"It has been named the Murder Capital more often than any other city in the country. The Gotham City Police Department also has the highest employee turn-over rate."

"Thank you, Hadji," Benton said, although he didn't sound thankful.

"I read that it has a high rate of explosions," added Jonny. "Maybe we'll get to see one!" The boys looked at each other in mock delight.

The fact that they were putting on an act did not lighten Benton's mood. In fact, he felt the beginning twinge of a headache.

He soldiered on. "Alright, alright. You know the basic rules. In all seriousness, Jonny, Hadji, keep your eyes open and use common sense. If you see a man suspiciously pass a package to another man, tell Race. Do not follow him. If you see a mugging, call the police. If you see a strange animal run into an alley, let it be. And if you hear an explosion—"

"Run toward it and find out what happened as soon as you can," Jonny finished.

Hadji shook his head, "No, Jonny. You are so thoughtless. You run toward it to help anyone hurt."

Jonny looked down at his feet, apparently shamed.

"And then you look around in case there are more explosives to diffuse," continued Hadji. "Someone has to diffuse the bombs."

Benton, ignoring them, continued. "We are staying in the Gotham Grand, in a historic and generally safer part of the city. Regardless, I'm sure you know that Gotham has a unique nightlife, no matter where you are. If we get separated or if something should happen, call the police. This is not the Sahara Desert and you do not have to go running off on your own. Trust the police, high-turn-over as there may be." He eyed Hadji, who innocently returned his gaze. "There are also offices for the FBI, CIA, and I-1 in the city. I repeat, do not go off on your own and try to fix things."

"Dad, we land in an hour…" Jonny was giving him the "wrap-it-up" signal.

"You are too old to bribe with ice cream, so I thought we'd up the ante. If we get through this week without adventure, I know someone who can get us box seats at a Gotham Knights game."

"Easy," bragged Jonny, as Hadji returned his hi-five.

Then Hadji folded his arms over his chest. "You too, Doctor Quest. We expect you to stay out of trouble as well."

Benton placed his hand over his heart and pledged, "I will do my utmost." They hadn't sat through a whole baseball game together in years. He was feeling optimistic.

Jonny leaned forward and rested his arms on his knees. "Seriously, Dad, I know Gotham is not a place to push your luck. We'll try to cut down the adrenaline on this trip. But there is one place I do want to go off on my own." He watched his father's eyebrows go up in anticipation. "I cannot have my Dad hovering around me on a campus tour."

Benton stammered. "Of course…I have plenty of work—"

"No, Dad," Jonny saw the hurt in his father's eyes and quickly tried to assure him. "I didn't mean… I want you to be there. It's just, you have a big name. I have a big name. I don't want that to be the reason people talk to me."

Benton met his son's gaze and smiled back in understanding. "Son, I know for a fact that you can get into any school you want, name or no name."

Jonny smiled at his father. He couldn't resist adding, "Plus, it'll be weird if you're with me when we tour the co-ed dorms."

Jonny quickly swiveled back to his laptop and put on his headphones.

"Co-ed dorms…" Benton repeated the phrase out loud, as if he were contemplating a new species of sharks.

He was stopped in his musings by his elder son trying to smother his laughter. Benton looked at him keenly. "I don't remember you mentioning whether the dorms at MIT are co-ed."

"Really?" Hadji replied. "They are. I thought I told you. Or maybe I told Race. Yes, I think I saw him first after the tour." His eyes skipped over to look out the window. "Look, you can see the lights of the city."

Benton narrowed his eyes in suspicion but then let the issue pass. "I'm afraid this might be more of a sightseeing tour for Jonny than for you."

Hadji opened his arms in a gesture of acceptance. "I am happy to do what I can, although I am still not sure what that will require." He leaned forward in his seat as Dr. Quest began to explain the project.

"Dr. Garrett is one of the leading researchers of bacterial adaptation to antibiotics. He works in conjunction with Gotham General Hospital. At the moment he's focusing on drug-resistant streptococcus pneumonieae at Greenstone Development."

"Pneumonia, even if drug-resistant, isn't necessarily fatal, is it?"

"For most people, no. For others, particularly the elderly, yes. He's working to improve diagnostic methods to ensure proper treatment for different levels of resistance."

"Which would hopefully slow the emergence of new drug-resistant strains."

"Exactly."

"But that is not what we are working on," prompted Hadji.

"Not directly. Dr. Garrett has been missing for over a month."

"That's never a good sign."

Benton allowed himself a small laugh. "That's exactly what Race said." His tone grew more serious. "Investigations indicate that he was involved in some corporate espionage. He apparently sold some of his research results, unrelated to this study, to a pharmaceutical company and is now basking in the sun on a tropical island."

"What do you think?" Hadji heard the doubt in his father's voice.

Benton leaned back and thought for a while. "It's possible. I've only met Dr. Garrett a few times. He's dedicated and I think his research is sound, but he was a bit territorial. He doesn't play well with others, which I think partially explains his working for a company like Greenstone."

"I'm surprised you have not mentioned them before this trip. I read that they hold contracts in bioengineering, robotics, and alternative energy research, much like Quest Enterprises."

Benton hesitated before answering. "For many years the company had a different reputation in the scientific community. Every once in a while it was rumored that research was being fabricated or tests were conducted without the consent of the participants. Charges were never made, but still the rumors circulated."

He was reminded again of Race's opinion about their going to Gotham in the first place. On top of that, they were consorting with a company that had a spotty record. And to finish it off, they were looking into the work of a man who had left his position under suspicious circumstances.

Lost in his own thoughts, he said, "I wouldn't do this if I didn't think Dr. Garrett's work could mean great things for treatment." After a moment he shook his head to clear his thoughts. "We will meet his assistant, Dr. Sekulic, and the head of the research division, Mr. Rendell, tomorrow."

Hadji had observed his father's face carefully, seeing the internal debate. "I'm sure Gotham General will be relieved to know you are coming."

"They would probably prefer if I stepped into Dr. Garrett's shoes entirely," he said. "But that's not to be. Our job here is only to crack open Dr. Garrett's encrypted files and get the project back on track. Mr. Rendell doesn't know why Garrett coded his files in the first place and he thinks that in itself is an act of corporate sabotage. Personally, I think when you're dealing with contagious bacteria you can never be too careful about data security."

"Why didn't Garrett destroy the records if it really was sabotage?" asked Jonny.

Benton wasn't surprised that Jonny had been listening for much of the conversation. "Maybe he tried to. It sounds like many of the files are incomplete or corrupt. I think what we'll be looking at are just the ones Greenstone could recover." He winked at his sons. "Between you and me, I don't think Mr. Rendell knows much about file encryption. We'll have to see what we've been dealt when we get there."

"I don't suppose you hire Quest Enterprises if it's an easy fix," Hadji remarked. "Had I known, I would have brought a different computer and loaded more data-analysis programs."

"We can remote-link to IRIS if needs be. Besides, you weren't cleared by Greenstone security until this morning."

"Charming."

"They've had a whole month to let others take a crack at it. I'm hoping we can figure it out in a day. And so you know, we were not hired. The company is only reimbursing us for our travel expenses. We are mostly here as goodwill for Gotham General. Until I get a better feel for the corporation, I prefer not to be formally associated with Greenstone Development. Always choose your associates well," he finished sagely.

"You mean like Estella Scheele?" asked Jonny.

"Or Dr. Faust?" added Hadji.

Benton unfastened his seatbelt, "I think I should assist Race with the landing sequence."


	5. Slow Night

It had been two days since Robin's report. Two days with little results. Robin was right about Banks' social calendar. The man seemed to know a quarter of Gotham, from the crème-de-la-crème to the scum. Batman spent hours looking through Robin's surveillance photographs. He identified about 50 people beyond what Robin and the computer could, but they were mostly from Bruce Wayne's life. There was definitely a pattern to where and when Banks met people and Batman began to distinguish the social, business, and illegitimate business meetings, but it would take more time to figure out the who, what, and how of the deals.

Patrols were slow, which he would have welcomed if he didn't think there was a diabolical reason for it. Stories continued to float through the underworld like garbage on Gotham River. Penguin, who had been clean for months, was slowly putting down roots at a few gambling dens. There were rumors of a new cult in town, but that was hardly news in Gotham. The GCPD had confiscated an entire shipping container of assault rifles and none of the crime bosses were complaining. Two-Face may or may not have been spotted in the Diamond District.

Batman spent most of the previous night at a tenement fire on the East End. The slumlord and the hired arsonist were in jail, sporting tread marks from his boots. Three muggers, a murderer, and a child molester were also in lockup. Slow night.

He heard Alfred's footfalls long before he heard him speak.

"Master Bruce, Master Dick is on the phone. Business."

"Thank you, Alfred." He tapped a button on the computer terminal. "News?"

"No. Not about that. Listen, if you don't need me, I'm not going on patrol tonight. There's something going on at Gotham State that I want to check out. A student went missing a few days ago—"

"Nate Donovan. They found his body in the river."

"Right. The police say it's suicide and some of his friends think that's not a stretch. I'm not saying they're wrong, but there's an odd vibe floating around campus. Something I can't put a finger on yet."

"I know the feeling. Report back when you're done."

"Right." The connection terminated.

He had been planning the night assuming Robin would be along. The change put a kink in the plans of both Batman and Bruce Wayne. Maybe criminals would hold off on being particularly nasty until his dinner date was over.

As if on cue, Alfred appeared at his elbow. The well-trained butler merely waited in silence, knowing that Bruce was fully aware of his presence. And Bruce rarely acknowledged his presence, at least at first. It was a war of the wills that went back to his earliest days as Batman. Alfred did his utmost to make sure that Bruce Wayne led an active and nominally respectable life, even if he had despaired of punctuality years ago.

Batman took his time starting the computer on a new task of checking people identified in the Banks photographs for matching phone records, abnormal financial activity, and time shared in jail. When he stood up and turned to Alfred, his voice rose to the mellow tones of billionaire Bruce Wayne. It was good to get the rust out of his voice early.

"Remind me where tonight's party is."

Alfred followed Bruce, collecting various pieces of costume, armor and weaponry as they were absently passed to him. "The Gallery, Sir, although you need not concern yourself. I am driving to tonight's affair.

"That's not necessary. Take the night off," Bruce gave his oldest friend a teasing smile.

Alfred was unmoved. "How generous of you, Master Bruce. May I ask what happened to the Jaguar the last time you drove yourself to a dinner party?" As he expected, Bruce was thoughtfully silent. "Perhaps if I remind you that you received a distressing message concerning Clayface that evening?"

Bruce's face hardened as he remembered the rest of what happened that night, but still he had no memory of the car.

Alfred sighed and began shuttling pieces of the Bat costume to various areas of cave, checking them for damage as he went. "Well, Sir, you no longer have a Jaguar. In your hurry to arrive at the crime scene you left the car —"

"Parked in the alley near Treecher and Diamond Streets," Bruce suddenly remembered. "You couldn't trace it to the thief?"

"Apparently car thieves are getting brighter these days and assume that owners of Jaguars like to keep track of their automobiles. The signal went as far as Broome street before it was disabled."

"Arly Jones," said Bruce, naming a well-known car buyer, seller, stripper, and thief. Bruce emerged from the changing room wearing one of his more modest suits, meaning it cost nearly as much as Dick's annual tuition.

"Most likely, Sir."

"So you are driving me."

"I will do my best to find an alternate vehicle in the garage. Wish me luck."

Ever efficient, Alfred turned off the cave's main lights before they started up the stairway.


	6. Business Rivals

The charity dinner the night before had been dull, but not without benefits. Bruce learned that two city officials were being bribed and a third blackmailed. The religious sect he had been hearing rumors about was making inroads into Gotham's elite, bringing to mind the psychic charlatan Nostromos. He wondered when, not if, Bruce Wayne would be solicited. The dinner party was actually more fruitful than the patrol, which was saying something. Things were so quiet that he contemplated dropping in on Selina to get her read on the city. A break out at the 32nd precinct jail prevented that late-night interlude. The police were only mildly surprised to find the fugitive on their doorstep an hour later, begging to be let back into lock-up.

Bruce had more time than usual to sleep, train, and even eat a leisurely breakfast. Alfred made the expected dry quips about replicants and Bizarro behavior. Bruce spent the first part of the day in the Cave listening to captured audio of Banks on the phone and in his office, with little to show for it. While he listened, he was glad to see the computer making progress in finding links between some of Banks' associates and the Gotham underworld. He had something to look forward to come evening. In the meantime, he had a welcome distraction. Lucius Fox could be counted on for anything, but there were still some business matters that he preferred to handle personally. This week, a noted guest was in Gotham.

Later that day he was settled behind his desk at Wayne Enterprises, a smile plastered on his face. "Dr. Quest, it's a pleasure." He extended his hand to the renowned scientist and motioned for him to have a seat. "I understand you are an extremely busy man and I appreciate your coming by."

"You're a hard man to say 'No' to, Mr. Wayne." Benton Quest was at ease discussing quantum-mechanics with Nobel prize winners and was also capable of growling back at five-star generals if the situation called for it, but he couldn't rightly admit that he was comfortable around Bruce Wayne. They had met at a few charity events and tech-cons over the years, but only in passing. Bruce Wayne, he had decided, was a strange figurehead for a dynamic Fortune 500 company.

Wayne-Enterprises influenced a huge portion of the global economy and Wayne-Tech had been a leader in R&D for nearly two decades. How much of that was due to the man now casually leaning back behind his desk was debatable. At best, Benton heard he was a shrewd businessman and philanthropist, heavily advised by a supporting staff. At worst, he was a playboy puppet and the joke of every rising politician and CEO (unless they owned stock in Wayne-Enterprises). The rich envied his wealth, the idealists envied his influence, and the old guard of Gotham were embarrassed by his lack of dignity. A businessman, a Wayne, and a billionaire should know better.

Quest Enterprises hardly measured up to the mass of Wayne-Tech, but Benton was hardly envious. He was also not disturbed by the playboy image that Wayne carried with him. Benton knew first-hand the difficulties of running a company. Anyone who could do that while staying in the black and on the right side of human rights issues was not a person to be dismissed. More than that, in his few personal meetings with Bruce Wayne, he had noticed a keenness that belied the standard gossip. Sure, the billionaire had each arm wrapped around a beautiful woman and was embarrassingly uniformed about certain topics, but the questions he asked Benton about his research had been insightful and his interest genuine. And, as Race observed later that evening, having a woman in each arm should not be held against the man.

Benton had several guesses at to why he had been invited to the billionaire's office at the top of Wayne Tower, but he wanted Mr. Wayne to make the first move. As before, it was difficult for Benton to get a read on him.

"I look forward to spending a few days in Gotham," Benton said, starting light conversation. "I haven't been here in a nearly a year, I believe."

"Yes, during the applied molecular biology conference." Mr. Wayne smiled. "I was not able to attend that evening, but I understand your presentation shifted the direction of biomedical engineering research."

"You have an excellent memory, Mr. Wayne," said Benton. "Before I forget, I would like to thank you and your company again for getting our jet back in order."

"Call me Bruce, please, and don't worry about the jet. I know how difficult it can be to find replacements for custom-designed aircraft."

Benton smiled, but did not reply.

It was Bruce's turn for casual conversation. In truth, Bruce wasn't exactly sure what he was looking for in this conversation. Or rather, he wasn't sure which to focus on first. Wayne-Tech had been eyeing Dr. Quest and Quest Enterprises for years. The idea of courting Dr. Quest had been mentioned more than once, but the notion was always turned down. It was well-known in the R&D field that Dr. Quest wanted autonomous control over his projects. Certainly he contracted out to various companies and branches of the government, but he always had the authority to pick and choose his work. Lucius Fox, among others, thought that Quest would deny any offer of a permanent position, and may resent anything even vaguely approaching a corporate buy-out. But that didn't mean they couldn't seek contractual assistance in certain projects. Having Dr. Quest as a collaborator would be a godsend to Wayne-Tech.

"I understand your son is considering school here in Gotham," said Bruce.

Benton did not hide his surprise, or discomfort, on finding out that Mr. Wayne knew of Jonny's interest in Gotham. "Yes, he is touring Gotham State." He paused. "I'm afraid he's not as comfortable with the press as his old man. Am I to expect the _Gazette_ is as well informed as you are?

Bruce Wayne smiled easily. "I sincerely doubt they have the same resources I do." For a fraction of a second his attention seemed to be elsewhere, and then he was back. "My apologies for the intrusion into your privacy. I admit that I am more than casually interested in there ever being a long-term connection between the Quest family and Gotham."

Delicately put, thought Benton. "We'll see what Jonathan thinks of the city. I appreciated speaking with Mr. Fox about current projects and learning more about Wayne-Enterprise's stance on humane testing and safety standards." Benton added, "Please be sure to include Quest Enterprises in your contact list for future R. ."

The two businessmen smiled at one another in mutual understanding. A subtle invitation, subtly declined. Benton wondered if that would be the end of the meeting.

At that moment the door burst in.

A woman charged up to Bruce's desk in a flurry of movement. Before Benton could even uncross his legs Bruce was on his feet, smiling cheerfully at the well-tailored intruder.

"Bruce, dear, we were supposed to be at Calverton's ten minutes ago." The woman was refined and indignant at the same time. "You may not have a schedule to keep –."

"Yes, Genevieve, I'll be with you in a moment." Bruce had already taken her hand and was deftly guiding her back to the reception room. "I believe Senator Matthison will be attending as—." His attempt at a distraction failed and the crasher zeroed in on his guest.

"Why, Dr. Quest. It is an honor. Imagine running into you, in Bruce Wayne's office no less." She looked from one man to another, her eyes gleaming with the gossip she was already spreading in her mind.

"A social call to an acquaintance, Miss…" said Dr. Quest.

"Blackmon, as in Blackmon shipping. Do you plan on —"

"With you in a moment, darling." Bruce had managed to physically direct her out the door, gently but firmly. "Your car or mine? Honestly, I don't remember where I parked mine this morning." The frown forming on Genevieve's face and the start of what was sure to be a huffy reply was blocked by the door slamming in her face.

Benton was unable to hide his amusement. He was about to give Bruce some friendly advice about dealing with women, but checked himself.

Bruce shared a conspiratorial smile with Dr. Quest and then sat near him in the other guest chair.

"Dr. Quest, I had planned to do this more delicately, but, as you can see, my time is nearly up." He held up his hands to forestall Dr. Quest's first reaction, "No, I do not mean to badger you with another job offer, at least not at this time. I respect your work as an independent researcher. What I want to talk to with you about is your reason for being in Gotham." Again, he held up his hand to hold off comment. "Privacy values aside, your movements and work are of interest to any number of powerful individuals." The added words 'good and bad' were not spoken, but Benton heard them anyway.

Bruce continued. "I can only hope you take what I am about to say as personal advice or professional courtesy. It could easily be construed as slander, but that is not my intent. I understand you have been hired to do some work for Greenstone."

It was Benton's turn to hold up his hand. "Mr. Wayne, I am aware of Greenstone's reputation. My work here is a personal favor on behalf of Gotham General." He moved to rise.

Wayne rose with him. "Gotham General may have good intentions, but take it from a businessman, Greenstone's interests lie elsewhere. Make sure the right people are benefiting."

"Cryptic advice, Mr. Wayne."

"Not all companies are as forthcoming as Quest Enterprises. Greenstone continues to be a bit of a mystery to us, and believe me when I say we do our homework."

"Oh, I believe you," Benton replied, with the barest hint of humor. He rose to leave. "Give my regards to the Senator, if you don't mind."

The meeting apparently at an end, they shook hands and Benton left. It had taken less than a day to become mired in corporate intrigue and he now rumors would be flying fast and furious. Even so, he left feeling that Bruce Wayne was sincere. As he rode the elevator down he phoned Race and asked him to run another background check on Greenstone. IRIS had her resources. Race had his.


	7. Campus Discoveries

"Hey, Dick!"

Dick Grayson turned around to see a boy from his statistics class hurrying closer, with two strangers trailing more slowly behind.

"Hey, Ollie. I thought you went home."

"I did but I had to come back for some microscope time. Break is the only time the professors aren't hogging the equipment. Listen," he gestured to the two people behind him, who were keeping a polite distance, "I was wondering if you could show a family around a bit of campus. I said I could but I just heard that I could get a ride to Metropolis for the weekend if I leave, like, right now."

Dick held back a groan. He had been up all night digging into the death of student Nate Donovan and what he found had only convinced him that he had a lot more investigating to do. Robin spent hours in the dark of the president's office, reading communications about Donovan's disappearance and rifling through student files. At first he felt a little awkward wearing his costume in the office, but he knew it was better to be safe than sorry if someone made a late night security check or if there were hidden cameras. That didn't stop him from putting his feet up on the president's desk as he read.

Nate's file was unremarkable at first. Robin couldn't find anything that stood out in his family life, grades, classes, or extracurriculars. Although his death was being investigated by the GCPD, campus security and the GSU Office of the President were making inquiries as well. Robin had no doubt some of this was an attempt to find out if the school could be held at fault in any way. The head of campus security interviewed several of Nate's friends, classmates, and professors.

The first couple of interviews were typical. Some of his friends thought it was odd that he had disappeared, some thought he might have just gone on vacation, and a few didn't even know he was gone. No one had any idea where he might have gone. A lot of the questions focused on Nate's physical and mental health. Most people, including Nate's girlfriend, thought he had been acting normal. They didn't remember any moments of depression, wandering off on his own, or acting strange. The last person to see him alive, Max Yount, said that Nate finished his shift at the training center and even confirmed his schedule for the next week.

Robin thought that was a strike against any theories about suicide. Plus, a few comments from other classmates suggested that Nate might have had problems. One floormate wondered if Nate had been cheating on his girlfriend, and one co-ed reported that Nate had asked her out and then gotten mad when she reminded him that he had a girlfriend. Another mentioned late nights and that he sometimes saw Nate returning home after dawn the next morning. One friend remembered Nate complaining about money problems the previous semester. For an entire week the friend heard Nate smashing and throwing things in his room in frustration, and then the problem just seemed to fade away. At least four people reported that Nate liked to drink to the point of being wasted, and two said he'd been drinking a lot more than usual.

Robin continued to skim the files for anything that stood out. About two hours into the reading he started to fidget. He had bailed on the evening patrol and had little to show for it. He took a moment to reflect on what got him interested in the disappearance in the first place. Sure, he had a natural interest as a schoolmate and a crime-fighter, but it's not like he personally knew Nate or anyone closely related to the case. Maybe it was how fast the news spread within the student body, small as it was in the off-season. Or maybe it was the way students turned their bodies to huddle closer together when they talked about it. He thought back to when he first noticed the rumors and realized it was only the day after Nate was last seen. How many times did a student disappear and it went unreported for days, or even weeks? With Nate, a shadow fell on the campus even before the was body was found.

Robin suddenly grabbed the file folder again. He flipped through the pages of interviews until he found one, and then shuffled again until he found a second. He quickly re-skimmed the pages, first one and then the other. A coworker, Mark Knipping, and a classmate, Desmond Crews, both mentioned Nate's drinking habits. Both suggested that Nate had been partying harder lately. Both said that Nate sometimes liked to "take the edge off" and drink at the river overlook. And both used those exact same words.

The rest of the night flew by fast. Within minutes Robin had erased his presence from the president's office and made scans of every page in the much thicker student files of Mark Knipping and Desmond Crews. By the time he made it to the Cave on his bike, the computer had analyzed the uploaded files and a pattern was starting to emerge. He wanted to keep working but at 9 a.m. Alfred ordered him back to campus and his morning composition class, which he had to re-take in the summer because of too many missed classes during the year.

By the end of class, he wasn't feeling particularly fond of Alfred, his professor, or his fellow classmates, and he certainly wasn't feeling up to giving a campus tour.

"Ollie, another time I'd —"

"Please, Dick. We've already seen east campus. There's just Vreeland Hall, the library, and the gymnasium left." Ollie leaned closer. "Jenny Mirushak offered the ride." His eyes were pleading.

Tired and distracted as he was, Dick knew it was a lost cause now. Ollie had been hot for Jenny ever since she started an argument in class with Professor Polenz about statistical significance. Ollie clearly sided with Jenny and Dick could thank her for the one and only statistics class he did not fall asleep in. He caved.

"Yeah, fine." He smiled and waved awkwardly at the father and son behind Ollie. He decided to try and not make them feel like they were keeping him from a well-earned nap. Which they were.

When they approached, Ollie introduced them. "Dick, this is Roger Bannon and Jonny Quest. Guys, this is Dick Grayson, the nicest guy at GSU."

"I already said yes, Ollie. Now beat it." Dick waved off his classmate.

"I appreciate this, Mr. Grayson," the young man with blonde hair said after Ollie left. "Look, if you have somewhere to go, we can find our own way around."

Dick shook his head. "No I'm happy to show you around. Just know that you are getting the personalized, unofficial Dick Grayson tour of Gotham State, meaning very little discussion of academia will be included."

Jonny laughed. Roger Bannon, whoever he was, did not. At first glance, Dick had thought they were father and son, but their names and a closer look said different. There was something about the way the man held himself that made Dick wary.

"I think we'll head to the gym first, since you two look like that might be one of your frequent haunts." Bannon looked at him and then away again. He seemed to be eying every building and shrub on campus.

Jonny flexed his bicep and dropped the pitch of his voice. "Oh, can you tell? Yes, I believe the gym is this way." As he pointed he flexed his bicep more and flashed a cocky expression. An old joke, but a classic.

Dick laughed. "Follow me, sport." The three of them walked to the gymnasium. Dick asked what they had already seen and what they thought about the school, and Jonny asked Dick the same. Dick talked about his classes and fellow students, trying to stay on the positive side of things. He most definitely did not mention his late night research. He didn't have much to say about the technical programs Jonny was interested in and was glad when they reached the gym and he could talk about something he did know.

The gymnasium was a monstrous relic of the post-war era, with a vaulted ceiling, massive windows, a wooden floor, and a smell that permeated the entire building. Bannon, Dick noted, almost smiled. Maybe.

"Who is that?" Jonny's eyes were glued to the lithe figure doing a complex gymnastic routine on the uneven bars.

"Close your mouth, Jonny." Mr. Bannon said, his voice as dry and deep as Dick imagined it would be.

Dick grinned and watched the young woman complete her set. She was adding difficult, even dangerous, maneuvers that would never be allowed in competition. She performed them flawlessly, with a power and grace that filled his next words with awe.

"That, fellas, is my girlfriend." As if to punctuate his words, she somersaulted high into the air and came down in a solid, graceful landing. "Kind of."

Jonny and Mr. Bannon looked at him.

"Kind of?" Jonny asked, confused. "You don't know?"

"With some women you never really know, kid."

This time Bannon laughed. "Ain't that the truth."

"Well are you going to clap or just stand there like creepy weirdos?" The gymnast was walking their way.

"Sorry, Babs." Dick and Jonny clapped loudly and added a few raucous whistles.

"That's more like it." She smiled at the visitors. "I'm Barbara."

"I'm Jonny and this is Race. We're checking out the campus."

Dick found it interesting that Jonny took the lead with introductions. He had an easy confidence that wasn't common in most kids his age.

Jonny turned to Race. "I can't believe how much she looks like Jessie!"

"Jessie?" asked Barbara.

Jonny turned back to explain. "Race's daughter. She looks a lot like you. I doubt she could do what you just did though." He quickly added, "No offense, Race."

"No, you're right, Jonny. I'm sure that routine took years of practice and training. Patience is not one of Jessie's strong suits."

"With a dad named Race, I wonder where she gets that from," Barbara said, laughter in her eyes. "So what brings you to GSU, Jonny?"

Jonny shrugged, as most prospective students did when asked this question. "Well, I'm really interested in computers. Engineering, robotics, virtual reality and that kind of stuff. My Dad thinks GSU has some potential."

"Your Dad thinks so?" Barbara asked. GSU was well known for its innovative tech labs and Jonny was making it sound like a community college.

"Jonny Quest, as in Quest Enterprises?" Dick asked, the pieces falling into place.

"That's us," said Jonny, somewhat sheepishly.

"Hey, I know the feeling," said Dick. Jonny looked at him and Dick just shrugged, "You're not the only one with a big shoes to fill."

"Tell me about it," Barbara chimed in.

The three of them looked at each other and laughed.

"Well, Johnny," said Barbara, "I'm not Benton Quest but I think the classes here at GSU will be challenging enough for you. And if they're not, it's easy to set up internships and personal projects. I'm working on an integrated database system right now that's completely my own design."

"Look at the time." Dick was looking at his wrist, which was bare. "We'd best be moving on, Babs."

"You are shameless, Dick Grayson." She winked at Jonny. "We'll have to talk sometime when Caveman here isn't around. He thinks computers will take over the world someday."

Race turned to Dick, "I'm liking you more and more every minute."

"Nice to meet you, Barbara," said Jonny.

Dick lingered while Race and Jonny headed toward the door. He leaned close and whispered into Barbara's ear. "You looked amazing."

Barbara blushed and smacked him with her towel. "You're supposed to value me for my mind, not my body, Dick."

"I do. Aren't you helping me with my psych make-up paper tomorrow? Besides, you're one to talk. It's obvious that you can't possibly value me for my mind." He stepped back from her and did a back flip with the ease and flare that came natural only to him. But he wasn't fast enough to duck the towel that Barbara threw in his face.


	8. The Calm Before

"Hey, Ponchita. How's London?"

"Oh, you know. British. Mom's been letting me see the city on my own. I went on a London Spy Tour today."

Race could only shake his head at his daughter's choices in entertainment when left to herself. "How was it?"

"Brilliant, as they say around here. But I'm sure you could give me a better one."

"Please tell me you're actually looking at the universities too."

"Of course, Dad. Today was just a surprise day off for me. Mom wanted to meet with some other professors before the conference starts."

"So what do you think, Jessie?"

"About the schools? I don't know for sure. Everyone I talked to was really nice and at least two have programs that lean toward my interests. But…"

Race didn't realize he was holding his breath, waiting for his daughter to continue.

"I'm not set on London yet. I mean, it's a great city. The music, the museums. I love the Tube - 'Mind the gap' and all that. Maybe if I knew more people here…"

Race left out a relieved sigh. Then he tried to be supportive. "You'd make friends fast, Jess. You always do. And it would only be for a few years."

"Yeah, I know. Still." Jessie took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then she changed tracks. "What did Jonny think of GSU?"

Jessie and Jonny had never discussed the possibility of going to the same school without using the words 'eww' and 'gross,' at least as far as Race knew. As much as they liked to compete, they had always talked as if their interests would take them to different schools. But now that they were starting to seriously shop around for schools, they seemed to be extremely curious about what the other was thinking. Race hadn't decided yet if Jessie and Jonny attending the same university would be a good thing or a very, very bad thing.

"Hard to say, Ponchita. Do you want to talk to him?"

"No, it's getting late here. Just tell him I asked and we can compare notes when I'm back."

"OK, Jess. Sleep well and say 'Hi' to your mom for me. Watch yourself on the streets there."

"Right, Dad. You too. Bye."

Race hung up and stood for a while longer at the hotel window, watching a gritty orange Gotham sunset, or what he could see of it through the spires and gargoyles of the city. He was just about to turn away when he saw lights flashing. It was strange to watch the police cars race by on the streets below and not hear their sirens from the height of his room. Seconds later, a GCPD airship lumbered by.

He'd heard occasional sounds from the adjoining room and new Jonny was safely watching TV. He took out his phone and fired off a text to Hadji, knowing he would be quicker than Benton to reply.

"W R U?"

With this family, what might seem like paranoia was really just readiness. When enough time had passed for the flashing blue and red lights of the squad cars to disappear in the distance, he started to type another message. Then he heard the key in the door.

Benton came in first, followed by Hadji, who held up his phone, the question in his eyes.

"Race, everything okay?" Benton asked.

"Fine. Just making sure you weren't part of the light show out front."

"It's Gotham City, Race. Don't wear yourself out."

Jonny came in from the other room. "Hey, Dad. How did things go?"

"It was more of a tour than anything else. Dr. Sekulic showed us around a few floors of their building, which apparently is both the corporate headquarters and the research facility. Before we knew it, we were in a meeting with Aramis Mendoza, director of the Gotham CDC. They both thoroughly thanked us for work we haven't done yet. I was glad the CEO wasn't available to gush at us too."

Jonny could tell his father wasn't very happy. "Sounds like a really fun time," he said dryly.

"It was interesting to see their facilities but I would have liked to get started. After all the glad-handing, we didn't have time to look at the files."

"And they wouldn't let us make copies to start analysis tonight," added Hadji. "Security."

Benton started pulling off his tie. "How was your day, Jonny? What did you think of Gotham State?"

Jonny flopped back onto one of the hotel beds and put his hands behind his head. "Well…they have an excellent gymnastics program."

Race snorted.

Benton raised an eyebrow. "Gymnastics. I didn't know you had an interest."

"I do now. Seriously, Dad, the tour was okay. It's summer so campus was quiet and I wasn't able to look in on any classes. I met a few professors and saw one of the labs. But it's so very hard for me to remember details when my body is focused on other things." He patted his stomach meaningfully.

"I see. Race, I seem to remember a Thai restaurant in the Village…"


	9. Crashing the Deal

After a much-needed evening nap, Robin told his partner about what he found at GSU. Knipping and Crews using the exact same language to describe Nate Donovan's behavior was only the beginning of mounting evidence of a conspiracy at the university. Knipping and Crews shared remarkably similar personal histories as well. Both had come from high income families, floundered in their first years at college, changed majors multiple times, and been cited for student misconduct. Then, at the beginning of the previous school year, both had apparently reformed. There was little in either file after that except transcripts of near straight As.

As best he could put together, Robin figured the three of them had met in a political science course during Nate's sophomore year and remained close after that, at least enough for Knipping and Crews to interviewed following Nate's death. Robin remembered Nate's financial problems and ran the account histories of all three students. Sure enough, right about the time Nate had been stressed about money, Knipping and Crews each withdrew over five thousand dollars from their personal accounts. Large withdrawals continued off and on for the two of them, while Nate also made smaller withdrawals.

He and Batman discussed the possibility of blackmail and whether Nate had been making a payoff the night of his disappearance. Or maybe he had finally said "No" and the blackmailer retaliated. Whatever it was, clearly Knipping and Crews were also involved. There was also the possibility that they were with Nate that night. Maybe they were keeping silent in fear, or covering everything up to protect the memory of their friend. Maybe not.

The computer's alert sounded, letting Batman and Robin know that a flagged item had come up. Batman cleared the red screen and saw that Banks, their arms dealer, had made a move.

"He's making a transfer tonight."

Robin was also looking at the screen but didn't see what his partner saw. "It's just a text saying to get tickets to the 'Frozen Roses' show."

"The text is from Jacob Zsigray, one of Banks' employees at a dummy corporation, to Evelyn Porter. There is no Evelyn Porter and Zsigray is not the type to attend Celtic music concerts in coffee shops. Any time they want to make a deal they find out when a show is opening in the city and use that as a time and date marker."

Robin nodded. "Where?"

"Evelyn decides. She, or whoever it is, will reply with a location coded to the the 1998 Gotham City phone book."

Robin only raised his eyebrows, not sure whether to comment on the time and effort it must have taken Batman to figure that out. Less than five minutes later, the text reply from 'Evelyn' appeared on the screen. Batman read the numbers in the message and opened up a digital archive of the phone book, finding the page, row, and line of the address for the deal.

"It's in Port Adams."

The two crime fighters took a minute to stock up from the Cave's armory before heading to the docks. The Frozen Roses were due on stage in less than an hour.

#

"Ready when you are, partner." Batman hadn't asked, but Robin said it anyway. He believed one of his responsibilities in the partnership was to make it appear as if Batman wasn't a complete sociopath.

Batman made one last visual sweep of the area before setting his eyes on the five scumbags below. Two worked for Banks. Three worked for Banks' newest buyer. One of these men's faces had a personal history with Batman's fist: Marvin Pearson. Batman caught up with him four years before, after he left his fingerprints all over money found at an illegal gambling house. Batman would have gone easy on him if he hadn't tried to set the building on fire during his exit. Apparently, he had moved from number running to smuggling guns.

"You know any of these guys?" Robin asked in a low voice.

"Just one, and he's the one we're after tonight. He'll have answers." He pointed out Pearson and gave a highlights version of their personal history together.

"He's not the king pin?"

"Just another flunky, but a smart one."

"How do you want to run it?"

"Divide and conquer. I'll start things off."

"Roger that."

The thugs below were moving cargo from the back of a box truck into two black SUVs. They were unaware of the two figures moving silently among the rooftops, one heading for the warehouse and the other making a wide circle around to the harbor. Pearson leaned against a stack of rotten wooden pallets, watching the grunts work and separating himself from the main group. Robin shook his head at the unprofessionalism. This was going to be easier than he thought.

A flicker of movement caught the corner of his eye and Robin eased himself deeper into the shadows. He wasn't the only one doing a flanking maneuver. Six more figures were on the ground, watching the transfer from hiding and carrying heavy weapons. Robin switched to night vision and swept his gaze across the docks, quickly spotting another lone figure on the rooftops, about 60 yards away. He looked back down to the hidden gunmen. Judging by the way they were holding their weapons, things were about to heat up real soon.

"Change of plans. We've got at least seven party crashers over here, six of them armed."

Batman's voice returned over the open comlink. "Hold your —."

The rest of his words were drowned out by gunfire.

Robin leapt down behind two of the gunmen and quickly dispatched them with bolas, all the while trying to keep an eye on Pearson and the seventh figure. One of Banks' men was already down and everyone else was starting to return confused fire at the shooters and each other. Robin heard a familiar clinking noise and watched as the truck, SUVs, and gun smugglers were buried within a thick smoke. The gunfire paused and Robin took out another shooter with a sharp roundhouse kick to the head. The gunmen weren't wearing uniforms, but their clothing and weapons were starting to look familiar.

He heard the softest scrape of fabric near him and new Batman had arrived.

"Get to Pearson."

Robin leapt onto some crates and quickly spotted his assigned target, who was frantically digging through the bloody pockets of his fallen man. Robin also saw that Pearson's other goon was blindly firing into the smoke. Robin somersaulted high over the man and came up behind him. He easily kicked the gun out of his hands and heard it spin across the docks. Before the man could react, Robin's knee was in his solar plexus. The dealer fell to the ground in a huff.

Pearson made a run for the driver's side of the first SUV. Robin caught up with him, grabbed his collar, spun him around, and slammed him back into the side of the vehicle.

"Going somewhere?"

Pearson's eyes flickered back and forth, from Robin to the darkness where other enemies were waiting with automatic weapons. The smoke was clearing fast and the shooting might start at any moment.

His face didn't show it, but Robin was surprised to still hear the crashes of a fight going on. Batman must be having a little trouble with the other four party crashers.

Robin twisted his fists into Pearson's collar and lifted him several inches off the ground. "Who do you work for? I want names, dirtbag, or we might leave you to try your luck at the OK Corral here." He looked Pearson up and down. "For a gun runner, you don't seem to be ready for a gunfight." With his toes just scraping the ground, his collar scrunched up under his flabby chin, and the forgotten keys jingling in one outstretched hand, Pearson appeared befuddled. Robin was about to get his attention, in a more direct way, when he felt cold metal at the back of his neck.

"Don't you know it's rude to ignore a question? I'd advise you to answer the young man." Robin recognized the smug menace in the voice behind him and immediately knew who the seventh figure was. He also knew that, though the gun was on him, the Penguin was speaking to Pearson.

Pearson's eyes fixed on the Penguin. His face turned a mottled red and his breath started to come out in rasps. Not wanting him to faint dead away, Robin slowly lowered him to the ground while keeping a firm grip on his shirt front. Pearson swallowed a few times and then struggled to get out a few words.

"I just do the deals," he said. He wasn't a big man but he was out of shape and sweat poured freely down his face and stung his eyes. "I get the phone messages about where to pick things up, where to make the transfer, and that's it."

"I don't give a farthing about you, Mr. Pearson. Who is your employer?" Penguin's words were polite but his tone was threatening.

By now, Pearson had recovered some of his dignity. "I'm not stupid enough to tell, and in any case I don't know much."

Robin never felt the gun move from his neck as the Penguin skewered Pearson's hand to the side of the SUV with the long blade at the end of his walking stick. Even so, Robin assumed the Penguin was a little distracted. In one fluid movement, Robin let go of Pearson, dropped into a crouch, came up behind the Penguin's arm, latched on, and twisted the heavy-set crime boss face-first to the ground.

"That's no way to play, Penguin."

"Then you won't like this either," said a new voice. Robin looked up just in time to side-step the incoming fist of Pearson's remaining goon. Apparently he had recovered his breath and was not very happy. Penguin took the opportunity to flip onto his back and reach for his gun. Robin stepped on this, and quite a few bones in Penguin's hand, while avoiding a second punch from the goon and landing one of his own on the man's jaw.

The one thing he did not do was keep an eye on Pearson. There was a rumble and burst of smoke from behind him as the first SUV pealed away.

"You thoughtless brat! We could have both got what we wanted."

A figure emerged from the shadows, picked up the Penguin, and carelessly threw him back into a pile of crates.

"Since when do we care what you want?" Batman asked.

"Cretin." Penguin struggled to extract himself from the wooden pile. "Clearly you are just as curious about this new personage in our fair city's underworld. We could have made great inroads tonight as to the identity of this mystery figure, and made much progress in _crushing_ him, if your whelp hadn't balked at the first sign of blood."

"Hey, fatty, I was doing fine until you jumped in."

"Robin." Batman's tone held a warning. "Call the police and let them know what to find here."

"Yes, let the adults talk," the Penguin added with a sneer.

Robin stalked off to check on the bad guys strewn about the docks in varying levels of pain and consciousness.

Batman loomed over the Penguin among the broken crates. "You want to share, share."

"A little tit-for-tat, then? That miscreant's name was Marvin Pearson. I believe I may have even hired him to do some creative accounting for me at one time. I was rather surprised to see him here tonight. This isn't his cup of tea, as they say."

"What isn't?"

"Why, selling guns. He's quite out of his element. Your turn." More than most, the Penguin understood that one of Batman's biggest weaknesses was a high regard for fair play.

"Pearson is connected to a large organization that's well funded, carefully controlled, and sophisticated."

The Penguin grunted. "Sounds familiar. But whoever is running it has no sense for drama. I don't know what annoys me more — that most of my business associates are leaving me for this spring chicken or that I have to keep referring to him, or let's honor the ladies — her, with amorphous vocabulary. It dulls conversation."

"Tonight it was guns. What else is moving?"

"I'll give you a list if you let me walk away from this tonight."

"People are dead. You're going to jail."

"If complete strangers decide to kill one another by the docks, who am I to stop them? But since the police are prejudiced against me and will likely assume that I had a part in this, perhaps you can agree to be lenient when an opportunity arises in the future."

Batman's only response was silence. The Penguin took that as the best he could expect.

"Medical supplies, ammunition, computer components, electronic navigational systems, explosives, and optic cable to start. Rumor among my men is that even a truck full of toilet paper went missing. Almost the only things not moving are drugs and liquor."

"You must be heartbroken."

The Penguin smiled. "They're a very loyal customer base. They'll be back." They heard sirens in the distance. "I'm sure I could have more information for you in the future, provided I stay at the apex of my empire. Care to reconsider that leniency?"

"I'll send you a Christmas card in jail."

"Ah, yes. I always knew you had a sense of humor beneath that grim visage. So do I."

The second SUV exploded, knocking Batman to his knees in a hail of fire, broken glass, and smoldering pieces of metal. When the heat blast passed and he lowered his cape, the Penguin was gone.

Robin appeared an instant later and sighed in relief at finding his partner in one piece.

"Did you get it on Pearson?" Batman asked as he brushed embers off of his cape.

"Right under his collar. Unless he ditches the coat, we should be in business. Problems back there earlier?"

"Penguin dropped a shipping container on me."

"Yeah, he's a real class act."


	10. Hidden Files

Benton paused from his work to rub his neck. He checked his watch and saw that it was nearly four o'clock. He and Hadji had been at it for five hours straight. Both feeling they were approaching the end of the project, they had opted for take-out and continued through lunch. Benton scrolled through the list of files and estimated about three hours of work left. That was assuming Hadji did not recover any more files.

His adopted son was in the office that opened to the lab, staring intently at the screen of Dr. Garrett's work station. Greenstone had already done a lot of work recovering files from Garrett's computer. That's where their work ended and Quest Enterprises came in. If Garrett had done a full overwrite or used a stronger private key password, they wouldn't have been able to recover much. As it was, IRIS was able to brute-force attack the password. Hadji and Jonny transfered the files as they were decrypted to Dr. Quest, who had begun the process of indexing the jumbled files and making research notations. It was encouraging to see that Garrett kept such detailed notes. On the other hand, Benton was surprised how little Dr. Garrett referenced previous research and on-going studies around the country. Surely his research could have benefited from the perspective. The more he read, the more Benton thought Dr. Garrett was focusing too much on publishing credit and lucrative pharmaceutical applications.

Over the course of their visit to Gotham, Benton had gained a better feel for the administration of Greenstone. While the Head of the Research Division, Keegan Rendell, clearly harbored a grudge against Dr. Garrett (and apparently Dr. Quest's involvement by association), the CEO of the company, Margaret Turner, was very forthcoming and enthusiastic about the progress Dr. Quest was making. She had also authorized the sharing of all of Dr. Garrett's research files with Gotham CDC with no restrictions. Benton had few misgivings about working with Greenstone after she announced that during their fist meeting.

"Dr. Quest?"

"Yes, Hadji?"

"Up to now I have been decrypting what appear to be Dr. Garret's research files spanning the last three years. Moments ago I found a cached version of a hidden folder, which in turn contained several folders and files. The decrypted file I just read contained personal information about Greenstone employees and comments by Garrett. I am not sure if I should proceed with the decryption."

Benton leaned back and stroked his beard. "It's a bit of a gray area, isn't it? I would not be inclined to read Dr. Garrett's private files, especially considering the fact that he has not been officially charged with anything. However, his files, work computer, and any research he has performed can rightly be considered the property of Greenstone. I'd say we should proceed to the point of being able to assess whether the files are relevant to his pneumonia research."

Hadji nodded and returned his gaze to the screen. Benton could see that his son was still concerned, and probably ready for a break soon. He was glad Jonny and Race would be rejoining them soon to assist and then go to dinner. At Jonny's request, the two of them had gone out to see Chinatown. No one was surprised by Race's admission that he knew some people who might be able to give them a behind-the-scenes tour.

Benton stretched, readjusted his seat, and set back to work. An incredibly fast reader, in twenty minutes he had indexed and made comments on six more files about serotypes, Gram stains, pharmacodynamics, and dosing regimens. At that rate, they might all be able leave the following evening. If he remembered right, there was even a Knights game they could catch. He looked over at Hadji again to ask whether they were approaching the end of Garrett's files. Something in his son's demeanor made him pause. He had to say Hadji's name twice before the young man looked up.

"What's wrong?"

"I think you should read this," Hadji replied. It was obvious from his expression and tone that the matter was serious. Hadji shifted his chair over as Benton came to lean in front of the computer.

Benton's eyes flashed across the simple text document and in moments he knew why Hadji was so concerned.

"Are there more like this?" The voice of Dr. Benton Quest, father, philanthropist, and world-famous researcher, was replaced by the voice of Dr. Benton Quest, former government employee, realist, and widower.

"I have decrypted eight and there are at least forty more."

Benton quickly skimmed the other seven files. Garrett was documenting the activities of his fellow employees, particularly Rendell and his assistant Timothy Horstman. Garrett wrote about finding the pair in the research labs late one night. When questioned by Garrett, they had no plausible excuse for being there. Garrett also apparently hacked into Rendell's email and copied several messages between Rendell and people named McM and Corvus. The few communications from Corvus were terse, while the messages between Rendell and McM referred to on-going research projects at Greenstone and what Garrett determined to be S.T.A.R. Labs. Key words within the messages set off alarms in Benton's head: EMP, _Bacillus anthracis_, worm, and ERT. It quickly became clear to Benton that Garrett was not the only one involved in corporate sabotage, if he had ever been involved at all.

Hadji grabbed a pencil and paper, wrote a note, and slid it over to Dr. Quest. It asked what Benton had been wondering himself: "What happened to Dr. Garrett?" They looked at each other and could see that neither was optimistic about the fate of Dr. Garrett. Benton immediately recognized why Hadji had written the note.

"I'm afraid I can't make heads or tails of them. It looks like the files were too corrupted to be recovered," he lied easily, in case the room was under surveillance. While he was talking, he wrote a response in fine print on the note. He continued, his voice nonchalant. "I think we can call it a day. With the files we've found, Greenstone can easily reboot the project."

He walked back to his laptop and began to quickly upload the indexed research files to IRIS while CCing Mendoza at the Gotham CDC and his contact at Gotham General. Meanwhile, Hadji was following the instructions of the note: "Text Race, upload all to IRIS, Leaving in 5 min."

Benton had just packed up his computer and gone to check on Hadji's progress when the door to the lab opened. Both looked up at the sound and saw Rendell and Horstman. Rendell was smiling. Benton walked back out of the office and into Garrett's lab space, a similar smile quickly planted on his face.

"What timing, Mr. Rendell. We were just about to give you an update and take a dinner break."

"Excellent, Dr. Quest. What have you found today?" Rendell folded his arms and leaned back against a lab counter. Horstman remained at the doorway.

"I believe we have recovered the bulk of Dr. Garrett's research notes. The project was further along than I expected. With these records, you should have no trouble getting the research team back on its feet."

"Good, good." Rendell nodded. He waited.

Benton tried to loosen his jaw. "I recommend that you set up a meeting with Dr. Mendoza tomorrow to share the findings. I would be happy to attend to explain the files and my indexing system."

Rendell merely nodded.

At a loss for words, Benton turned back to Hadji. "Ready?"

Hadji, apparently calm as ever, replied, "Just shutting down now."

Rendell straightened. "Just a moment. I wonder if you wouldn't mind showing me a particular file." He began walking toward the office room.

Without thinking, Benton moved to block his path. He stopped when he saw Hadji give him the slightest of nods. Benton tried to smile again and waved Rendell toward the office. "Of course."

If Rendell thought Benton's behavior was odd, he didn't show it. Only because he was watching for it did Benton see Hadji slip their note into his pocket. His skin crawled as Rendell leaned closer to his son to look at the screen, boxing Hadji in behind the desk. Benton kept his hands from clenching into fists only with conscious effort.

"What file are you looking for?" Hadji asked.

Rendell reached across to take the mouse and began to casually click through files on the screen. Benton knew by Hadji's nod earlier that he had managed to close the incriminating files in time, but they couldn't be buried very far.

"Those are the raw files, Mr. Rendell, and have not yet been renamed or indexed. You would have better luck on my computer." Benton stepped forward when he said this and was unnerved that Horstman mirrored his movement. Hadji must have seen it too because he then looked at his mentor, watching for a signal.

Rendell continued, seemingly oblivious to the tension in the room. "Thank you for the offer, Dr. Quest, but I think I can find what I'm looking for on this computer." He backed out a little to give Hadji access to the computer again. Benton's relief was shortlived. "If you would, Hadji, bring up the search feature."

Hadji nodded and settled back at the computer, taking the opportunity to back his chair out ever so slightly. When the program was ready, he waited in silence.

"Search… Oh, wait. I already know what you've found on this computer, because I've been remotely monitoring it this entir—."

Benton and Hadji cut his gloating short by bursting into action. Benton spun around and saw Horstman reach into his suit and pull out a gun. The good doctor grabbed this arm with a firm hand and used his other to deliver a swift blow to Horstman's trachea. Behind him, Hadji grabbed Rendell's head in both hands and brought it down swiftly and hard to the desk. Then Hadji was up and over the desk. He slammed the office door behind him and looked around for anything to keep it closed.

Despite the hit to his throat, Horstman remained standing, kept his hold on the gun, and rallied enough to knock Benton back with a well-practiced kick to the chest. Benton steadied himself as Hadji rushed in and grabbed Horstman in a side hold, preventing him from raising the weapon.

Benton was about to help when he heard the door rattle behind him. He didn't doubt that Rendell was also armed. He turned and rushed at the office door just as Rendell was opening it. The door flew back and Benton leaped in. He wrapped his arms around Rendell's waist in a flying tackle that took them both crashing into the far side of the office wall. Rendell's handgun clattered to the floor.

"God almighty." The words were like music to Benton's ears. Guns or not, the fight would be more even now that Race Bannon had entered the mix.

Benton refocused on Rendell, whose face was nearly purple with rage. Benton tried to lock him in a judo hold but Rendell countered by rearing back and smashing his forehead into Benton's face. Stunned and in pain, Benton lost his grip and felt Rendell slip out of the hold. Benton ignored the bloody taste in his mouth and lunged for the fallen gun, just as Rendell was.

Rendell got to it first. Benton landed an elbow on the side of Rendell's face before he could get the weapon up, but it wasn't enough to stop him. There was a moment when both men realized what was going to happen next. Benton wondered if Jonny had come in with Race. Would he see his father killed as well?

Rendell sneered as he pulled the trigger.


	11. Lab Brawl

20 minutes earlier.

"Jonny, I don't want to tell you where you can or can't go to school, but you can't go to Gotham."

"What are you talking about, Race? I did everything right back there. Didn't you see how impressed he was that I greeted him in Min?"

"Maybe you need to brush up, because then he joked about recruiting you as an adviser. He's hoping to expand his smuggling network into New England."

Jonny huffed. "Well, he's your friend." A few seconds later, he added, "He couldn't afford me anyway."

Race shook his head and the two continued walking in silence, or what passed for silence during evening rush hour in Gotham. They had just spotted the Greenstone building two blocks up when Race's phone vibrated. He pulled it out and saw a text from Hadji: "Shady business. Files on IRIS. Leaving in 5." The message was more cryptic than usual, and coming from Hadji, that was saying a lot. One thing was clear to Race: things were not going well at Greenstone.

"What's wrong?" Jonny immediately noticed Race's scowl.

"Hadji and your dad stumbled onto something. They're making a quick exit."

"When?"

"Right about now. Let's get close, but not too close."

Jonny nodded, ready to follow his bodyguard. He looked up at the forty-story Greenstone building with new perspective. He asked, "Twenty-fifth floor, right?"

"Right." They crossed the street mid-block, setting off a chain of tire squeals and honks, and ducked into a financial building. They continued through the lobby until they reached a side entrance that had a clear view of the Greenstone building. They weren't there long before Jonny asked to see the text message.

When he was done he handed the phone back to Race. "They should be out by now."

"I'm going in five."

"We're going in five," Jonny corrected him.

"No." Race's tone said it was not up for discussion, but that didn't stop Jonny.

"Yes."

Race pulled his gaze away from Greenstone's front entrance to make eye contact with Jonny. "You stay here, safe, and I go in, or we call the cops and they go in."

"The cops? It'll take them forever to get here. And what do we tell them?"

"You're not going in there, Jonny. I go in. At the first sign of anything suspicious, I send you the alarm message, you call the police. Mention your Dad and they'll come. In the meantime, hook up with IRIS and figure out what these files are."

Three years ago Jonny would have continued arguing and demanded to follow Race into the path of danger. Now, somewhat wiser, he only growled in frustration and pulled out his phone.

Race took that as the best answer he would get. He hurried back to the front doorway, crossed the street to more angry honking, and pushed open the glass doors of the Greenstone building. He waved to the front receptionist and then put his hand back in his pocket, thumb ready on the SEND button of his phone.

"I'm here to meet Dr. Quest, who is working in Dr. Garrett's office. I was up there earlier today and know the way." Race had no problem keeping his voice and manner light, no matter how primed he really was.

"Wait, Mr. Bannon." The reception raised his arm to stop Race. "Yes, I remember you from yesterday, but please wait while I call up. I have to get clearance for research floors."

Race gave a short nod and waited, deciding from the receptionist's behavior that he didn't know about anything going on. The receptionist, whose name-tag said Phillips, was listening on the phone. When Phillips frowned, so did Race.

"They're not answering up there. Would yo—."

"I don't want to make your job harder, Phillips, but I really need to see Dr. Quest right now. His son's in a bit of trouble." That last part wasn't exactly true, but when wasn't Jonny in trouble?

"Ah." Phillips hesitated under the full brunt of Race's glare. He shrank back reflexively when Race put both hands on the desk. The ledge groaned under the weight. "I'll call one of our guards to escort you up." Race didn't take his eyes off of Phillips until the guard entered through a side door.

"This way, Mr. Bannon."

Race absently flexed and unflexed the fingers of his free hand as they rode the elevator up together. The guard gave him a long side-look, but didn't comment. When the doors opened on the twenty-fifth floor the hallway was empty and silent. Race breathed a little easier as he exited and followed the guard to Garrett's laboratory. Then he heard sounds that were all to familiar to his ears: a brawl. He cut ahead of the guard and was the first to enter the lab.

"God almighty." Race assessed the situation in an instant, noting the two firearms, Rendell's rage, and Horstman's disciplined escape from Hadji's hold. He hit the SEND button on his phone at the same time he heard the guard beside him announcing a Code Black and calling for assistance over his radio. Race hadn't liked the looks of Horstman the first time he laid eyes on him, and now he knew why. He was about to wade in to help Hadji with the obviously-trained operative when he heard a noise behind him. Make that three firearms.

He whirled to his right to grab the guard's hand from behind, slide his leg behind the man's knee, and pull back on the man's other shoulder. Race felt the ligaments in the guard's wrist pop as his body crashed to the floor with Race still holding his gun hand. When the guard dropped his gun, as expected, Race kicked it to the far side of the lab.

Somewhere else, another gun went off.

Race looked first to Horstman and was relieved to see that Hadji had also disarmed his opponent and was standing unharmed. But he knew by the way that Hadji was staring at the office that it wasn't Horstman's gun that had gone off.

Rendell appeared in the doorway, gun in hand, and Race's heart stopped for a moment. The guard at his feet shrieked in pain as Race involuntarily crushed his already damaged wrist in a vice grip. Then he heard Benton. He was crying out in pain, but he was alive.

Things moved even faster after that. Rendell aimed his gun at Race while saying something to Horstman. It was drowned out by the sound of four more guards bursting through the stairwell. Horstman responded by turning to Hadji, still staring at the office in shock, and hammering him with right hook that drove the young man to his knees.

Race lurched forward despite Rendell's gun, scenarios of breaking Horstman's arm running through his mind. Strong arms grabbed him from behind. This was definitely an off day for him.

"Delay the police until we're out of the building," he heard Rendell instruct the guards. Rendell then disappeared into a side hallway where Race remembered seeing a service elevator. As soon as the gun was off of him, Race turned on the guards.

It wasn't his cleanest work, but he got the job done. He started by extricating himself from the rather pathetic full nelson, spinning around, and bringing his knee up to meet the face of his would-be holder. He threw his stunned opponent directly into the path of the one man who had a gun out, sending them both to the floor. The next guard did him a favor by coming on in a rush. Race met him halfway, grabbed him by the collar and belt, and lifted him up and over onto a countertop covered in what he hoped was expensive lab equipment. It was certainly fragile.

Race risked a look at Hadji, who, despite being held in a partial choke hold with one arm behind his back, was making Horstman roar by digging the thumb of his free hand back into Horstman's eye. Race turned back to the fourth guard, hoping he still hadn't had the sense to draw his firearm. Instead, he saw Jonny swing a stool high over his head and bring it crashing down on the man's head.

"Behind you!" Race pointed at the two guards getting up from the floor, the one still holding his gun. Race rushed past Jonny and brought his boot down hard on the man's wrist. A second deafening gunshot filled the room, but this time the bullet went harmlessly into the wall. Race was tempted to pick up the gun and make sure the guards limped for the next five years, but decided against it. The guards might not even know who the real enemy was. Instead, he settled for kicking the man so hard he fell back to the floor in a daze. Jonny sat on the other guard's back and wrapped his arm in a painful hold Race had taught him.

Race straighted and turned around in time to see Rendell deliver a vicious punch directly to Hadji's solar plexus. Hadji doubled over as he struggled to draw breath. Instead of taking the opportunity to run, Horstman wrapped his arms around Hadji's neck. Race recognized this hold as well and knew that even if Hadji could get air into his lungs the oxygen wouldn't reach his brain. His face was already turning a dark color.

"Stop it!" Jonny shouted angrily. Rendell looked up at them and raised his gun.

Race put out a hand to keep Jonny back. "Tie them up." He gestured at the guards without taking his eyes from Rendell's.

"Race?" Jonny sounded unsure.

"Quick."

Race realized now what Rendell had told Horstman. They were taking Hadji as a hostage. On cue, Rendell put his gun to Hadji's temple.

Where were the police, Race wondered in frustration. Why hadn't he heard Benton lately? And why the hell was the man on the countertop starting to move again? Race ran several attack scenarios through his mind and none of them turned out well. Hadji was barely conscious now and Horstman struggled to hold him up. Race hoped this would help his argument.

"He'll only slow you down. It's over anyway, Rendell. We know everything." Of course, that last part was a bluff. All he knew was that Rendell's face had an appointment with his fist.

Rendell's anger had faded and a cool smugness returned to his voice. "Come any closer, he dies." The three began backing down the hallway. Race followed, keeping his hands visible and maintaining his distance.

"Leave him and we won't follow you. I'll even throw these guys in the elevator with you," Race said, indicating the various guards Jonny was in the process of tying up.

"The police will follow, Bannon. Besides, this is just the beginning." They were now backing into the service elevator that lay open and waiting.

"Dad!" The horror in Jonny's voice tore at Race's heart. He must have been wondering this whole time where his dad was, and now he'd found him. Race was dreading what he would find in that office.

"You've got more important things to deal with." Rendell's smile was awful. A feeling of helpless frustration washed over Race, followed quickly by the urge to throw Rendell off of the building. Rendell must have seen it, because his smile vanished. The doors began to close and Rendell pulled the gun away from Hadji to take aim at Race. There was nowhere to hide in the hallway, but still Race attempted to dodge. They were both surprised when Hadji raised a weak hand and pushed the gun away. The shot went into the wall and the doors closed.


	12. In Pursuit

Bruce bit back a curse. His phone alarm had been silently vibrating for the last three minutes, but there were some things even he wouldn't rush. The billionaire philanthropist was currently surrounded by sixteen recipients of Wayne Foundation scholarships, all of whom would be the first in their families to attend college. He had no qualms about walking out on CEOs, supermodels, or kings, but he wouldn't walk out on them. At least, not for another two minutes. Then he would.

He smiled, he shook hands, he posed while the flashbulbs popped, and he sincerely congratulated each student and their parents. Then he instructed his assistant to make his apologies and alleviate any hard feelings by arranging a flying tour of the city in his private helicopter. They wouldn't even notice he was gone.

As soon as he was back in his office, the mask fell away. He initiated security and uplinked to Alfred in the Cave.

"What's going on?"

"Trouble on the East Side. The initial 911 call was vague, but reports are now coming in that Dr. Quest was attacked in the Greenstone Building. The gunmen took a hostage and are believed to be in a black SUV, license plate BRP 0116."

"When did the call come in?"

"Nearly twenty minutes ago."

Bruce was moving as fast as he could, changing into one of the batsuits he kept in the secret vaults lining his office at Wayne Tower. "What's traffic like?"

"I would recommend an alternative mode of transportation. Ah, the computer just found a match at the corner of Murphy and 32nd. Judging by the blurriness of the photograph, they are not obeying traffic laws."

Batman strapped on his belt and hit a button, opening up the com line of his suit. "Keep me updated, Alfred."

"Of course, sir."

Batman pushed a button on the wall of the vault, opening the hidden entrance to the inner workings of Bruce Wayne's private elevator. He leaped across the open shaft and onto the service ladder lining the wall. From there he climbed the five flights up to the roof level. He detached a large black contraption from where it blended in with the wall and then exited through a hatch. Once on the roof, he quickly assembled his glider. It wasn't ideal, but it would get him across town fast.

Alfred's voice entered his right ear. "They are now skirting Miller Harbor, heading southwest."

"Police?"

"At least four blocks back. Others are attempting to set up a barricade at the bridge. I dare say they will be too late."

"Strange that they're heading into rush hour traffic." His harness attached, Batman jumped from Wayne Tower and began soaring through the Gotham City skyline.

"Perhaps they hope to disappear into the chaos."

"At that speed, I don't think they're trying to blend in." Batman paused to guide the wide wings of the glider around a corner and into the narrow canyon of Baker Street, where he could catch the thermal updraft of Mother Gotham's Bakery. "Where are they now?"

"There hasn't been a camera match in some time. Perhaps they did indeed get stuck… Odd."

"Alfred?"

"I last had them south of Grant Park but they appear to have backtracked and are now cutting northwest through the lower end of Robinson Park. The police lost sight of them some time ago and I believe there are only two cameras within the park."

"I'm on my own." Batman was already banking the glider. There was a good chance now that he could catch up with them before they left the park.

"Shall I call for Robin?"

"Not yet. He's checking on something at the university tonight."

Batman could see the trees lining the edge of Robinson Park and aimed the glider for the main path. They might have taken it if they wanted to get through quickly. If they were trying to be subtle, they might be on a secondary path. Most of the roads were shaded by trees, which would make spotting them from above extremely difficult. But he was in luck. His eyes darted over to where a flock of birds had suddenly flown up into the sky. They were on the main path, and coming fast.

"I've got them Alfred. Notify the police of our location."

"Yes, sir. Good luck."

If they did have a hostage inside, a lot of his usual methods for stopping the vehicle were out of the question. He considered his options and decided to address the matter directly, literally. He eased the glider down into a flat cruise, about thirty feet above the ground. He wouldn't be able to hold that height at that speed for very long, but if his estimates were correct, he wouldn't have to. He counted to three and the SUV burst around the curve in the path. That left the attackers five seconds to stare at the 30-foot black batwings of his glider, four seconds to swear, three seconds to see the determined set of his jaw, two seconds to apply the breaks, and one second to brace before his boots met the hood of their SUV.

That all happened exactly as planned. After that, the scum deviated from the norm. He could see three men in the car in various stages of outrage, surprise, fear. By the way the driver's mouth was hanging open, he was leaning toward fear. The man in the back seat dropped his cell phone and swore as he pulled out a handgun. Instead of aiming it at Batman, he yanked on something and pulled it into view. Batman recognized Dr. Quest's adopted son, and the gun that was now pointed at his head.

Normally, Batman would have seen all of this, detached his glider, and filled the vehicle with knockout gas before the driver thought to take his foot off the break. With surprising speed, the front passenger pulled out a gun, leaned out of his window, and fired three rounds at Batman before the vehicle had even come to a stop.

Batman felt the impact of all three bullets on his chest. While his armor did its job, the man was a good marksman and all of the rounds hit in a narrow radius. Batman was knocked off the hood and onto the ground. He wondered briefly if he had broken ribs. Again faster than usual, the gunman ordered the driver to go. Batman dodged to the driver's side and leaped up onto the roof of the SUV as it rushed by. He felt the vehicle buck as it crushed his glider. This wasn't going well.

When the gunman's head and hand appeared above the door-frame, as he knew they would, Batman grabbed the hand and twisted the gun out in a painful rotation. Bones broke. He followed that with a punch that crushed the man's nose. He would likely need reconstructive surgery to ever get air through there again.

Batman looked up and saw that they were about to leave the park and re-enter Gotham traffic. He flatted himself and clutched the frame of the roof as the SUV swung right onto Mortimer Avenue. He was disappointed to see that rush hour traffic had dissipated. The driver easily weaved in and out of the lanes, sometimes to avoid cars, but more often to try and throw off the extra rider. Batman held on so tight the metal roof crumpled under his grip.

They were approaching a major crossing and Batman braced as the SUV accelerated toward the red light instead of slowing down. They shot through the intersection, causing other cars to crash noisily behind.

Then, without reason or warning, the driver slammed on the breaks.

Batman lost his grip and flew forward as the SUV screeched to a halt behind him. He hit the hard Gotham pavement twenty feet in front of the vehicle and tried to roll with the impact. He wasn't slow in getting up, but it wasn't his fastest recovery either. With a flick of his wrist, he pulled out two batarangs and took aim at the tires.

The next thing he knew, Batman was lying on the pavement again, thirty feet from where he had first landed, and on fire. Or that's what it felt like. His body convulsed with excruciating pain and he felt like his suit was melting to his skin. He focused on breathing and biting back the burning agony.

The paralyzing pain and convulsions eventually subsided, but it was a hard battle getting his exhausted muscles to move. He turned his head to see a new enemy reloading what looked like a high-tech grenade launcher. The SUV was gone.

He supposed he shouldn't be surprised that enemies of Dr. Quest had advanced weaponry. This newest attacker had obviously been laying in wait for him, telling him something more about the nature of Dr. Quest's enemies, plural. A sudden suspicion rose to mind but he buried it when the attacker finished reloading and lifted the launcher. Batman was surprised to see that it was actually a woman taking aim at him. He didn't know yet what the launcher did, but he wasn't about to feel its effects again. He also wasn't about to go easy on a girl.

The woman woke up hours later in a GCPD holding cell with a nasty bruise from the business end of Batman's grapnel line, not to mention a splitting headache.


	13. Long Distance Shoulder

Jonny rested his head against the window glass while he talked to Jessie. He had called her earlier, when he was practically crawling up the walls of the waiting room. Then he cut her off abruptly when the doctor came out to talk to him. Jessie understood, like she always did. Well, usually. Now, hours later, he had time to talk.

"How's your dad?" she asked.

The lights were off and his father's bruised face was illuminated only by the lights of the city. "Sleeping. He's on heavy-duty painkillers right now." He closed his eyes. "There was so much blood, Jess. When he came around again I…" He paused, not knowing how to tell Jessie that he thought his father was dead, how he was shouting at him over and over again, how he felt like he was about to fall into a deep, dark abyss that had no end. "When he opened his eyes it was like the world started up again. But then I wished he hadn't woken up. He was screaming, Jess." The pain of the memory bled through his own voice. "It was awful."

Jessie remained silent on the other end while Jonny steadied his breathing. "When is surgery?"

"Tomorrow morning. The surgeon thinks she can repair most of the damage and that he'll be walking in short order. He might need a cane for a while."

"He's lucky the cabrón didn't hit the femoral artery."

"Dad was probably making sure he didn't take one in the chest."

Jessie cursed on the other end. "How's my dad?"

Jonny began rubbing his neck with his free hand. "He's past the yelling stage and into the work-like-crazy stage. He's at the police station now, trying to learn everything he can about Rendell."

"I heard you were in your own yelling stage."

Jonny's face reddened in the dark. "You talked to your dad?"

"Of course, stupid."

"What did he say?"

"He said you gave him a piece of your mind for not telling you sooner that your dad had been shot. That if he died you'd throw him out of your life." She paused. "Did you mean that?"

Jonny sighed. "At the time, sure. I was going crazy, Jess. Everyone was yelling, the EMTs almost didn't let me go with him, and Dad was making horrible noises. But you know I wouldn't do that for real. Besides, he was right. We couldn't help dad if the bad guys were on us. Much help it did anyway." He stopped himself from going over the "what ifs" yet again and tried to lighten the mood. "Race told me that if Dad wakes up before he's back I'm supposed to give him a cheer for his flying tackle. Race says I would have been impressed." He couldn't see it, or hear it, but he knew Jessie was smiling.

"About your dad… Does he know?"

"What?" Jonny asked, but he thought he knew what she was referring to. It was what they had avoided talking about so far. His heart started beating faster.

"Does he know Rendell has Hadji? Does he know…" she swallowed. "Does he know who Rendell works for?"

"Race told you?"

"Of course."

"We don't know for sure it's him." Jonny was hoping against hope that his brother had been taken by run-of-the-mill bad guys.

"Biological warfare, a network of fanatical agents, and the patience to infiltrate a major corporation like Greenstone? Corvus? Your dad will agree."

"And I supposed I'll be the one to tell him. To your other question, no, I don't think he does know about Hadji. In fact, I hope he doesn't remember a lot of today. At least they'll have drugs handy when we break the news. I know he'll take a guilt trip no matter what we say."

"Speaking of which, you sound awfully close to taking one yourself."

Right again, Jess, he thought. He was dangerously close to losing it. "I didn't even see them go, Jess."

"Because you were helping your Dad, right? Hadji would have told you to do that anyway."

"It just happened so fast and I was all focused on Dad. What if I never —"

"Jonny Quest, if you say what I think you're going to say, I am going to punch you _so hard_ the next time I see you."

Jonny lightly knocked his head against the window a few times, not liking where his thoughts were leading him. When Race told him what he had found, and seen, Jonny almost threw up. As soon as the EMTs and the first wave of police arrived, Race had taken off. He found the blood on the floor of the service elevator. He found the parking garage attendant, slumped against the wall and slowly bleeding out. He ran out into the crushing streets of Gotham, but no one could tell him where the SUV had gone. The police lost it after a matter of blocks.

Race hollered and raged until the police allowed him to watch the security tapes. They all cheered when Hadji managed to stop the elevator with a well placed kick to the control panel. They all winced when Rendell back-handed him with the gun. Hadji lay unconscious in a small but growing pool of blood as Rendell talked on his phone and then he and Horstman raided the labs on the sixteenth floor. Race watched grimly as Hadji eventually stirred, clutching his forehead in pain, and they used the cloth of his own turban to tie his hands and make a garrote around his neck. The parking guard told Race, in choked and bloody words, that he saw them come out of the elevator and didn't understand what was happening. He wasn't fast enough.

Race told Jonny all of this in a daze, the first time they had talked since Jonny's blow up. When Jonny asked if the attendant was in the hospital too, Race just shook his head. Jonny knew why.

"Jonny? Are you still there?"

"Sorry, Jess. Reliving some dark moments."

"You know you can talk to me."

Jonny closed his eyes again. "I'll tell you when you're older."

Jessie didn't push him. After a moment of silence, she asked, "What hotel are you staying at?"

"The Grand. Why?" He already knew the answer.

"I'm sending flowers." Jessie knew he already knew.

"Yeah, right. I'll let security know so they don't tackle you in the hall."

"Security?"

"I-1 and the Gotham police are fighting for command. As usual, your dad is actually running things but no one will admit it."

"He's just trying to help. I had to talk him out of a guilt spiral earlier too, but it wasn't long before he was talking about busting heads."

"You'd better get here fast, Jess. Take away Dad, Hadji, and you, and you can imagine what you're left with."

"Two intelligent, strong, caring men who can do anything when they put their minds to it?"

That was far from the wise-crack answer he was expecting. "Thanks, Jessie."

"See you soon, hotshot."

Jonny ended the call and sighed. He turned to his father's bed. "Well, it's just you and me, Pops."

Just as he said it, Jonny felt the hairs on the back of his neck shoot up. He stood stock still, his senses on high alert. Why was the sound of his father's breathing different? Was it suddenly darker in the room? Why was his heart pounding so fast? He fought the urge to turn and look into the corners of the room behind him. Jonny suddenly felt as if any moment someone, or something, would put a grisly hand on his shoulder.

The tiniest flicker of movement caught his attention and he turned, slowly, to look out the window. There, floating at the nineteenth floor of Gotham General, was the Batman. Jonny couldn't stop himself from backing away or the small yelp that escaped his lips. Several eerie, silent seconds passed before Batman finally raised one hand. First he pointed at Jonny, and then he pointed up. Jonny looked over to his dad, in painless rest, and then looked back to the window and nodded. Quickly and silently as he arrived, the Batman disappeared.


	14. Rooftop Meeting

The guard at the door must have been assigned only to protect Dr. Quest because he didn't even ask Jonny where he was going. Jonny was on the roof within minutes and was greeted with a blast of cool night air. It wouldn't be right to call it fresh in downtown Gotham, but it was welcome. When Jonny's eyes adjusted to the darkness he spotted the Caped Crusader at a far corner of the roof, crouched on the edge of the outer wall and apparently surveying the streets below.

As he got closer, Jonny thought back to all of the legends he'd heard about Batman. Most came from TV and the newspapers, but he knew they were sensationalized. They derided Batman as a destructive vigilante, calling him a public menace. No one actually trusted these sources, including Jonny. The fact was, either you had personally felt Batman's cold gaze dissect you, from skin to soul, or you were one of the millions to whom he was a bedtime story.

Now, six feet away, Jonny was struck by two things. The first was the sheer muscular bulk of Batman. The second was the way that everything about the man, from the set of his jaw to the design of his black boots, conveyed a hardness: of his life, of this thoughts, and of his purpose.

"I think we can help each other." The rough bass of his voice matched everything else about him. When he turned to look at Jonny, the young man could stand his gaze for only a moment.

Jonny swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. "You know what happened?"

"From police communications, your phone call, and a run in with the attackers."

Jonny didn't know which part to respond to first — the fact that Batman had eavesdropped on his conversation with Jessie or that he had made contact with the enemy. Curiosity trumped dignity.

"What happened? Did you get them?" he asked.

Batman shook his head. "I continued the chase from Greenstone but lost them in the West Side. Do your enemies always carry proto-type lightning-cannons?"

Jonny couldn't tell if Batman was joking. "Great. Next I suppose you'll say my father designed it."

"No. Professor Charles Nguyen at GSU developed it. It was stolen from his high security lab about two months ago."

Jonny shook his head, not liking what this could mean. "That's just the beginning," he said, quoting Rendell.

"I take it you know who's behind this?"

"I think so. Do you?"

"Not a name, but I've been putting a profile together over the past weeks. He's methodical and patient, to the point he was off of my radar for at least a year. That's not easy." The way he said it, Jonny had no problem believing it. "He's controlled criminal networks before and has global connections. He's highly intelligent and has a soft-spot for new technology. He's also charismatic, enough so to enlist very smart people with no previous ties to the underworld. And he's crazy."

Jonny's laugh was humorless. "Right on all counts. How'd you figure out the last part?"

Batman growled, "Because he came to my city."

Jonny took a seat on the wall before starting. "His name is Ezekiel Rage. We've had several run-ins with him in the past. Put simply, he wants to destroy the world. He has an amazing ability to show up alive just when you start to believe he's dead."

"I'm familiar with the type. I'm surprised I haven't heard of him before. "

"He's former government. You know how they like to hide their mistakes. I can have IRIS send you the file."

"IRIS?"

"Our computer system."

"Why does he want to destroy the world?"

"The government left him high and dry during an operation. He survived but his family was killed. He wants revenge." Jonny said this all casually, unaware of the storm of emotions he set raging in his silent companion. When Batman finally said something it was edged with steel.

"Why did he attack your father? Did he have something to do with the mission?"

"No. We all crossed paths years later and have stopped him from killing off the planet more than once. Dad was called here to help with some research. I guess he and Hadji stumbled on something in Dr. Garrett's files, probably something that's tied to Rage's big plan." He added darkly, "He always has a big plan. I started IRIS decrypting the rest of the files. I only had a chance to read a few. I'll read more tomorrow."

"Send them to me. I can start pulling information."

Jonny stiffened and took time to phrase his answer. "No. I don't know what's on those files yet." He turned to look Batman in the eye. "And I don't really know you."

It almost seemed impossible, but Batman's scowl deepened. "We don't have time for this. Rage's men took something from Greenstone's lab, possibly a biological agent, and he has your friend to—."

"Brother." Jonny jerked to his feet and began pacing. "He's my brother and I sure as hell don't need you telling me how bad this all looks. I've dealt with Rage and his crazy brotherhood before. For all I know you could think he has the right idea. Like you said, he's very charismatic."

Batman's head snapped up. "Brotherhood?"

Jonny stopped his pacing, knowing that Batman had thought of something. "Yeah, he always calls people 'Brother John' and 'Sister Betty' and crap like that. Why?"

"A possible connection to something else we've been looking into."

"What?"

Batman's attention was already focused somewhere else. "I'll be back just before dawn. I hope we'll have some information to share with each other by then." He turned back to the streets of Gotham and tensed his muscles for the jump.

"Wait!" Jonny reached out as if to grab him. Batman turned to face him. If he thought Jonny was about to change his mind about sending the files, he was wrong. "When you chased Rendell… did you see Hadji?"

Batman's eyes softened. "Yes."

"Was he… okay?" Jonny's eyes betrayed his fear.

Batman thought back to the split second he had made eye contact with the older brother, bloody and with a gun to his head. He answered honestly, "He looked angry."

Of all the things Jonny had braced himself to hear, that wasn't one of them. A smile slowly broke on his face. If Hadji hadn't given up, neither would he. He started to say, "Thank you," but realized he was alone on the rooftop. "Awkward…," he mumbled to the night sky.

When Race softly opened the door to Dr. Quest's hospital room thirty minutes later, instead of finding Jonny asleep at his father's side he found him working intently on his laptop.


	15. Finding the Brotherhood

It was all starting to come together: Donovan's disappearance, the gun running, and the eerily quiet streets. The Brotherhood of Rage was behind nearly everything they had been investigating over the past year. The new villain had alarming reach and resources. And, according to Batman, this Rage character was bent on destroying the world. Perfect.

When Batman relayed the highlights version of Ezekiel Rage's file to him, Robin couldn't help but think how familiar it all sounded. Rage's family had been killed and he was out for vengeance. Who was he to argue with that sentiment? Rage was a former good guy, now gone bad because of a horrible, disfiguring accident. Sound like a certain D.A. who was (hopefully) in Arkham at the moment? Rage wanted to bring down a holy fire that would cleanse the world of evil. He and Ra's could be cousins. But at least Ra's held out some hope for humankind, if not in Gotham itself, then in the wider world. Rage seemed to want nothing less than the complete destruction of civilization.

Well, they weren't going to let that happen. They didn't know what Rage's big plan was yet, but it clearly involved a lot of weapons, some very smart henchmen, and large-scale genocide. Batman was working on unraveling Rage's plan, cross checking materials, people, and locations. Robin's assignment was to find the Brotherhood's cells on the West Side and get a line on Dr. Quest's son.

Things started off fast and then slowed down as the sun continued to rise. He started with his old pal Desmond Crews, suspect in the death of Nate Donovan and very likely a member of the very Brotherhood they were now hunting. When Robin focused his binoculars on Crews' window and saw it lit up at four in the morning, he knew he was on the right track. He had no trouble finding a rooftop perch on the fraternity house and listening to Crews' agitated phone calls and pacing footsteps. Robin gathered that the Brotherhood was on high alert and that things were about to be set in motion, if they hadn't been already. It also became clear from the conversations that Crews didn't know as much as Robin hoped. He certainly didn't know about anything Singh. Robin packed up his gear.

Crews was lucky. If he hadn't spouted some names and places for Robin to check out, the Boy Wonder would have welcomed the chance get information, one way or the other. But he had leads to follow and they didn't want to put the Brotherhood on edge… yet. Nate Donovan's role in all of this Brotherhood business, as participant or victim, would have to be sorted out later.

Robin moved on from the frat house and identified three other cells by nine o'clock, but there was still no sign of Singh. He updated Batman and they made note of the locations for future raids: an internet cafe, a guitar shop, an old armory, an abandoned grade school. They might even have to look into a women's book club if he understood a message right. (Unrelated to all of this Brotherhood business, he also notified the police of two meth labs, discovered a new gambling den, and stopped a B&E.)

Normally it would take him weeks to gather this much information. Today, it was easy as pie to spot members of the Brotherhood. Some were anxious, others looked delighted, and quite a few started to look physically ill after a fellow brother or sister whispered that the time was drawing near. In their excitement or agitation, they couldn't stop themselves from leaking names.

As the morning wore on he grew more selective about who he followed, letting the acolytes with second-thought frowns wander off and focusing on the rarer brother or sister who took the news with a grim nod. These were the die-hard crazies to watch. Strangely, one of them led him right back to where he started: Gotham State University. Apparently Crews and the frat house were merely the lowest level of a much larger cell at the university. The woman he was following now, Amanda Geller, ranked much, much higher.

Alfred, who had been up all night relaying info from the Cave, reported that she was a visiting professor of philosophy. She scored very high on her academic tests, had published several articles in professional journals, was divorced after a marriage of two years, had no family in the area, had been arrested twice during protests, and had acted in several local theater productions in minor roles. Alfred's tone clearly expressed his opinion of her stage career.

Robin switched back to normal clothes to better blend in with the morning college crowd, but also took the time to slip into one of his favorite disguises. A bearded hippie wouldn't look out of place in the student lounge just a few doors down from Geller's office in the philosophy department. He had already decided that Geller walked, talked, and looked like she didn't have many friends. But for all that, she wasn't alone in the world. Within minutes of her arrival on campus, two men made their way to her office. They were trying really hard to appear casual. Robin recognized one of them as a professor of mathematics. He put on his headphones and listened in on the conversation in her office.

Math teacher:

What have you heard?

Geller:

Nothing from above. Yet.

Voice 3:

And below?

Geller:

Somebody screwed up. It's all tied to this kidnapping on the news and the research team.

Voice 3:

Our team?

Geller:

No.

Math teacher:

I heard he's upset.

Geller:

Hardly surprising.

Voice 3:

More than usual. One of my students even mentioned an…execution.

Math teacher:

Rumors are flying and brothers and sisters are going around like crazy!

Geller:

And here you are in my office, doing the same thing.

Math teacher:

We need to know what's going on. Calm people down.

Geller:

There's the phone. Do you want to ask him what's going on?

-silence-

That's what I thought. We wait for instructions. That doesn't mean we can't be prepared. Gather the team and prime the cluster. With Batman involved I think the schedule has been moved up.

Voice 3:

Batman?

Geller:

What? Did you think this was a game? That there wouldn't be risks? Get out of my office and don't come back unless I send for you.

Robin was bobbing his head to a fictional drum beat when the two men walk by the lounge. He gave them a good lead time and then rose to follow. Like expected, they didn't go far before stopping to talk about what had just happened. When they stopped beneath a tree, Robin continued walking. As soon as he was out of their vision he ducked into a building. As much as he wanted to hear what they were saying, he would be noticeable standing around in the open.

He found the stairwell of the building and climbed until he could see the men through a window, still under the tree. He kept an eye on them and pulled out his phone. He sent a quick message to Alfred in the Cave: "Two more found. See photos and return ID. One is math teacher. Talk of a "cluster" being primed. Mean anything?" He followed with a photo of the two men.

Minutes later his phone vibrated and he saw it was Alfred.

"Anything?" he answered.

"One is mathematics professor Nicholas Yefanova. No hits in the core databases yet. The other is Andre Carabello, an adjunct professor who specializes in computer software engineering. He's had several short stays at universities across the country. One filed charges against him for misconduct and perhaps the others had similar grievances. With him, also, there were no hits in the core databases. These are not your typical criminals."

"Well I'm not your typical superher—." He cut himself off when another student entered the stairwell. "Yep. I couldn't agree more," he rambled.

"Not alone?"

"No."

"Perhaps this is a good time to mention your laundry bin. It's beginning to ripen, sir."

"What do you know, I can talk again. Did you find anything else? Quickly. It looks like they're about to split up."

"The words 'prime' and 'cluster' bring up many references to mathematics, but with Mr. Carabello's background it's possible he's referring to a computer cluster. More specifically, multiple computers connected to make a powerful system."

"Sounds like we just hit part of the master plan."

"Indeed. I will alert him. Use caution, young sir."

"Hey, I can handle computer nerds."

Robin ended the call without waiting for Alfred's typical pithy response. As the two men outside made signs of parting, Robin decided to let Yefanova go and find out what exactly Geller had instructed Carabello to do. Robin followed the wiry computer nerd to an office in the engineering building. The office door didn't have his name on it, but Carabello had obviously settled in for the summer. Robin made a quick costume change in the bathroom, losing the beard, changing shirts, and adding a baseball hat. He walked by the office door again and attached a small listening bug to the outer doorframe. Even if Carabello closed his office door Robin would be able to hear everything in the quiet summer hallways. Too bad Carabello didn't have anyone to say anything to.

Robin realized after half an hour that a bug wasn't going to help. A computer geek obviously had other ways of communicating. He listened closer and confirmed the sound of rapid typing coming from the office. He hadn't seen any windows in the room either, meaning it would be impossible to see from the outside what exactly Carabello was typing. Breaking into the computer via the Cave would take too long and was probably foolish to try against a software engineer's computer anyway. That left… beating the piss out of him.

Okay, maybe that wasn't an option either.

On the bright side, the room clearly wasn't large enough to hold multiple computers. Whatever Carabello was supposed to be doing with the cluster, he didn't seem to be doing it yet. Fortunately for Robin, Alfred stepped in with impeccable timing. Robin walked to the end of the hallway to answer his phone.

"I might have something for you, young sir. A cluster requires a large amount of electricity to power the system, as well as proper cooling systems. I have gathered from the university's electrical usage that three such buildings exist. One of these, Wright Hall, shows the most frequent key card swipes of Mr. Carabello, including some at very odd hours of the night. I suggest you begin your search there."

"You're brilliant, Alfred."

"Indeed."

"I'm changing back into full gear. Will the big man be joining me?"

"No."

Robin was surprised to hear Batman's deep voice on the phone now. "I"m in the middle of researching the materials that Rendell took from Greenstone's laboratory. Some of the files the Quests uncovered refer to a biological agent. All of the remaining samples were destroyed in the lab but I hope to figure out the basic biological structure from the files. Use your discretion at the cluster. Observe and report, or destroy if necessary."

"If that riles them up?"

"A necessary risk if it means stopping Rage. I can monitor from the Cave."

"No, I got this." Robin ended the call. He walked back down the hallway and paused only long enough to hear Carabello still typing at his desk. Then he hurried across campus to one of his several roof-top equipment drops. It also happened to have a clear view of the Wright building. After donning his full Robin costume, he took out his binoculars and studied the building. If the blueprints were easy to access Alfred would have sent them by now. He was on his own.

Robin was the first to admit that his costume wasn't very stealthy in the late morning sun, but he knew that speed, quiet, and timing were more important anyway. He aimed a line launcher at the other rooftop, fired, and slid over to the roof of Wright Hall. He'd been in the building a few times and knew the general layout. Much of the structure was filled with classrooms and offices, which he could ignore. He entered through the roof's emergency exit and worked his way from top to bottom. He had just cleared the sixth floor and was making his back to the stairwell when he spotted a directory near the elevator banks. Someone had crudely crossed out the name "ASC Project" and written "HAL 9000." Robin wasn't a computer buff, but he was a movie buff. The cluster was on the second floor.

Closer to his goal, he decided to change tactics. He pushed the button for the elevator and waited for the car, really hoping that no one would find him, dressed as Robin, waiting awkwardly in the hallway. He heard the cables moving, the bell chimed, and the doors opened. He stepped in and gave a sigh of relief when the doors closed again without anyone else appearing. As soon as the car was in motion, he worked open the ceiling panel, punched the button for floor two, and swung up into the top of the elevator.

Within moments the car was stopping again and the doors opened to the second floor. He watched through the crack he left in the panel. No one came on. The elevator sat silent for a few moments. The doors slid closed again. Maybe he was being overly cautious, he thought.

Better safe than sorry. He silently swung down from the ceiling, just far enough to tap the button for the sixth floor. Once there, he hit the second floor button again and re-hid on the top. This time someone did come to investigate. It was an odd angle to make out much of anything, but Robin definitely saw a man cautiously peak around the doorway to see into all four corners of the elevator. So they did have someone standing guard.

Robin decided this was as good an opening as ever. As soon as the guard turned around Robin lifted the hatch and dropped into the room. Quiet though he was, the guard turned around at the sound. Robin's first thought was to knock the guard senseless, but he hesitated. The guard couldn't have been more than eighteen years old and he was so skinny his shoulders looked bony. On the other hand, he was carrying a Glock and looked like he at least knew how to hold it.

Robin decided on a compromise. Within two seconds, he had twisted the gun out of the kid's hand and wrapped his arms around his neck. Another fifteen seconds and the kid slumped over, unconscious. Robin found the kid's cell phone and tossed it up and out into the elevator shaft where it clanked distantly to the bottom. Then he ripped open the control access panel of the elevator and pulled a few wires. Satisfied, he pushed the button for the the lower level and slipped between the doors just before they closed.

He was glad to see no one else was prowling the halls. He silently made his way across the glossy floor. Someone had dimmed the lights on the floor and given the entire place an atmosphere of "You got off on the wrong floor." He was used to much, much worse places.

He was about fifty feet from the computer lab when he heard voices. That meant he might get information. He ducked back and forth into other offices, edging his way closer. Eventually he was confident that no one else was acting as lookout and he crept right up to the lab itself. This room was also dark, lit only by the glow of a few monitors and a shaded window. Alfred was right. Even with the cold air vents blasting Robin could feel heat emanating from the room and smelled the overworked computers. He had an odd moment of nostalgia as it reminded him of Barbara's dorm room. He had briefly considered calling her when signs started to point to a computer issue, but he knew she'd ask too many questions that he wouldn't be able to answer.*

Focus, Robin. No time for thinking about brilliant, hot girls. He turned his attention back to the ongoing conversation between three students.

"How long are we going to have to sit here?"

"Would you stop whining? We've been working on this for four months and day we actually get to launch it you freak out?"

"Both of you, shut up. I'm trying to work here."

"On what?"

"We knew we would be corrupting some major computers, but I never imagined it would be something Quest created. I'm modifying the blend to dodge his security longer and take advantage of his system's speed and reach."

"He's got a point. We do this right, we could knock out the Eastern Seaboard."

"Either that or his system eats our code for breakfast."

"What the hell are you doing?"

"What?"

"Are you seriously bragging about this before we've even done it? You dumb shit. I can't believe you got into this team, not to mention college. Delete that post before I kick your ass."

"Text from Brother Carabello."

"Would you stop it with that shit? The names and the robes are corny as hell."

"Watch yourself. When other people are fighting to the death for a can of beans or a jug of water, I'm going to have a crew at my back. You do realize it might come to that, right? Rage isn't messy around."

Silence.

"Dumb shit."

"Screw you. What did Carabello say?"

"They're about to make the call."

"That's one attack. What did he say about the rest?"

"It's on, full-scale."

"Jesus. Maybe I should call my mom."

"I swear to God, Binder, you so much as check the time on your phone and I will shove it so far up yo—."

"Okay! Okay. Forget it."

Robin heard enough. He backed away from the door and slipped into an empty classroom down the hall. Within seconds, he had Batman on the comlink.

"Progress?"

Robin kept his voice low. "I'm about to shut down the cluster. They're waiting for a go-ahead to launch a multi-pronged attack, including something on Dr. Quest's system. Figured you could warn him in case this isn't the only room of nerds in on this."

"Right. Gordon's sending a team he trusts your way. Apparently he's been finding out that there even a few brothers and sisters of Rage in the ranks of the GCPD. Try to keep the damage to a minimum so we can get information."

"From the computers or the nerds?"

"Both."

The line went dead. Robin added, "Good luck," anyway. He grabbed a few smoke pellets from his belt and crept back to the lab doorway. He risked one more long look into the room to remember the layout when things went dark. The cluster itself was made up of about twenty towers set on a shelving unit at the far right corner. The programmers were parked in front of two monitors and a laptop along a table next to the cluster. Between him and the programmers were more tables piled with various dissected computer parts. He still couldn't see the power source of the cluster, if it was even in the same room. The programmers were still bickering.

"Keep your shirt on. He'll be here soon."

"Hey, do you think think she'll be at the meeting tonight?"

"Is that what you're thinking about at a time like this?"

"Why not? We're just waiting here."

"I doubt it. I think she deals directly with Brother Rage."

"Then how come we saw her at the gathering?"

"Who knows? She looked bored most of the time anyway."

"But so hot."

"Binder, do you even read the papers?"

"No one reads the papers anymore."

"My point is, it's probably safer for us all if she's _not_ at the armory tonight. I hear Brother Rage had her cook up something really nasty. Almost as toxic as her own blood."

"They would warn us before dumping that, right? Or give us an antidote? I mean, we're part of the Brotherhood."

Robin's stomach turned as he realized who they were probably talking about: Poison Ivy. She was probably behind the biological agent Batman was investigating at that very moment. He didn't want to break up the party when information like this was coming in, but the clock was running. Carabello was due to arrive. The order to launch the attack might come at any moment. And the guy stuck in the stalled elevator had probably managed to get somebody's attention by now.

Robin threw the pellets in and a thick, purplish smoke immediately filled the room. He heard the programmers cough and scramble around in a panic. Robin decided to improve the odds first. He navigated around the table and reached out into the air, his gloves snagging on thick fabric. He grinned, knowing he had caught the robed nutcase who seemed the most likely to push the button when the order came. He heaved the smaller man back around the tables and launched him off to the side. If he aimed right, it was through the doorway. If he was wrong, it was into the wall. Either way, it was one less man to deal with. When he didn't hear a crash, he knew he had calculated right. Robin leaped back and slammed the door shut. He followed that up by shoving one of the middle tables against the door.

Then he turned his attention back to the remaining brothers, hoping that launching a virus was far from their minds in the disorienting smoke. He saw the smoke swirl and then heard a crash at the back left corner of the room. That was followed by another crash and Robin figured out that one of the programmers was trying to break the window to get fresh air. The location of the other programmer was still a mystery.

Robin crossed back to the work area and moved his arms around just enough to confirm that they had both left their work stations. Then he went to the cluster and started feeling the sides for the power cords. If he had to, he'd unplug them all one by one. At that moment, he heard the crash of glass and a draft of air rushed into the room. Now he could see further than two feet in front of him. What he didn't see were power cords. He crouched down and looked at the floor, grateful to see that the shelf wasn't bolted to the floor. He grunted and heaved. The metal legs shrieked as he dragged the shelf away from the wall. When he saw the back structure he almost laughed. For some reason he had expected something more high tech than a bunch of power strips wired to the back of the shelf.

"Binder! Get your ass out from under that table and launch the virus!"

Robin looked up and saw what was coming next. Done breaking the window, the biggest of the three programmers was closing in on him fast. What the programmer might lack in agility or coordination he made up for in bulk, and space was already tight. Robin resisted the urge to topple the entire cluster onto the oncoming truck and instead crouched low and launched himself at the programmer's knees. He felt the expected blow as a shin connected with his collarbone. He rolled to his left to avoid being smothered when the hefty college student fell to the floor. Then Robin turned his attention to Binder, who was just about to put hands to keyboard.

They locked eyes.

Binder retreated to the far side of the room, hands in the air.

Robin turned back to the cluster and the programmer now lying alongside. It's not like he wanted to walk on the guy. He just happened to be in the way and needed to be reminded that he should stay down. Robin reached around the shelf and found the first power strip. As soon as he flipped the on/off switch one of the workstation emitted an angry sound. He turned off two more of the six switches and the system was started making dead beeping sounds that all computer owners dreaded to hear.

"What's going on in there?" Someone, maybe Carabello, was shouting from outside the room. Robin saw through the wires of the shelf that people were struggling to push the door open. Binder and the tank went to pull the table away, maybe thinking that with more numbers they could get things back on track. Or maybe they just wanted to get out. Robin finished turning off the power and then got out from behind the shelf. He ripped the largest flatscreen monitor away from the workstation and threw it to the floor, where it smashed to pieces. Now all four members of the brotherhood were in the room.

Carabello was in the full black robe of the Brotherhood. He looked at the smashed monitor and then back at Robin, his expression smug. "As if that would stop anything."

"It would take time to replace. Time you don't have." Robin punctuated his words by reaching out and gripping the other flatscreen so hard that the glass crackled and the screen died. "Gotham police are on their way." Carabello's smile fell. In fact, Robin knew the police had already arrived. He heard the distant sounds of boots clambering up the stairwell. "Looks like you aren't going to be able to take that call when it comes."

Carabello scowled. Then he said through clenched teeth, "Code Sherman."

Robin couldn't help but notice the frantic looks the three students exchanged. He watched as Binder fled the room, followed closely by the other two students. Carabello lingered just long enough to give a small smile, and then backed out of the room and closed the door. Robin didn't know what it all meant, but he knew it was never good when bad guys smiled like that. He slid over the table and tried the door handle. Locked. He could break or burn through, but he had the distinct feeling there wasn't time for that. Then he heard the faintest of beeps in the room.

And then another one, somewhere else.

Half a second later he heard one more, this time below his feet.

He didn't stay to hear any more. He vaulted back over the table and ran for the busted window. He was crouched on the sill when the world exploded behind him.

—

*Batgirl hasn't revealed her identity to the dynamic duo yet.


	16. Decisions

"Hi, Dad. Quick question for you. What room is Dr. Quest in?"

"Why?" Race asked, immediately suspicious of this daughter's intentions. It had been a long night, and then a long morning waiting for Benton to get out of surgery. In the end, everything went well and the prognosis was as good as could be expected. More importantly, everyone felt better now that Benton was alert and ready to bring his usual insight to the situation at hand.

They actually lied to Benton before his surgery, telling him that Hadji was resting back at the hotel. His pain meds must have been pretty strong for him to believe there was even a chance his elder son wouldn't be at his bedside. Race was the one who broke the news afterward, while Jonny held his father's hand. Race spared him the details but Benton probably saw something in his eyes. When Race finished, Benton was silent and pale, gripping Jonny's hand. Race decided to step out of the room for a moment. That's when Jessie called.

"Dad, I want to get him some flowers."

"Room 1922, Gotham General," Race answered slowly, still not entirely sure Jessie was telling the truth.

"How are you holding up? You sound tired."

"Benton's surgery went well."

"Yeah, I got a text from Jonny."

"They're together right now. I just told Benton about Hadji."

"Oh." They shared a silent moment.

"Don't you worry, Ponchita. We're finding out more about Rage's operation by the minute, and we have some heavy-duty allies on the case."

"So I've heard"

"Besides, Hadji's probably pulling off one of his master escapes as we speak." Race's voice trailed off toward the end. He had spotted a storm approaching in the hospital hallway. "Listen, I'm going to have to go. Now that Benton's awake people here will want a debriefing. I don't think they'll take 'No' for an answer this time."

"Okay. Talk to you later, Dad. Love you."

"I love you too, Jessie." He barely had time to put his phone in his pocket.

"Mr. Bannon, we'd like a word with Dr. Quest."

"I figured as much." He nodded to the I-1 field agent, lead GCPD detective, and FBI agent, mildly surprised they could even stand each other long enough to walk in the same hallway. Maybe they had bonded together against a common enemy: him. "Let me check."

He nodded to the police officer guarding the door, who had politely pretended to not listen to his conversation with Jessie but watched this latest exchange with an amused expression. Race knocked on the door and then entered. Benton looked over while Jonny wiped something from his eyes.

"You ready to tell your story?" Race asked.

"If they're ready to return the favor."

"I'll make sure of that, if you want me here."

"Of course. Both of you stay. If they don't like it, they can arrest me."

Fifty minutes and two hundred questions later, they had the room to themselves again.

"I've got a headache," said Jonny, rubbing his head. The long night staring at the computer and hearing his father's retelling of the events had fried his brain.

"It's almost noon and I bet you didn't even have breakfast. You can have my jello." Benton was happy to see his son smile at his small attempt at a joke.

All three looked up when they heard a knock on the door, followed immediately by it being thrown open.

"Hi Dad!" Jessie exclaimed brightly as she walked into the room, luggage in tow.

"Jessie?" Race barked in disbelief. He recovered quickly. "Jessica Velasquez Bannon, you lied to me."

"What? I did get him flowers," she said, holding up the basket she held in one hand. She rolled her luggage to the side of the room and put the flowers on a side table that was overflowing with greenery and gifts from other well-wishers. She went over and gave Dr. Quest a kiss on the cheek. "I'm so glad you're alright." She squeezed his hand and for a few seconds Benton thought she might start to cry. He was about to say something when Jessie turned back to her father. "Did you really think I wouldn't come?"

"I thought that you would trust my judgment of how dangerous the situation is!"

"Well I made my own judgment, based on how depressed you all sounded on the phone. Besides, either you're going to stay cooped up in here with top security outside the door, where I'll be just as safe as you, or you're going to go off and get yourselves neck-deep in trouble, in which case you'll need me to save your sorry butts."

Jonny was smiling and Benton was trying really hard not to, for the sake of his friend and a fellow father.

Race was not smiling. "It's bad enough with Benton shot, Hadji kidnapped, and Jonny being Jonny in this snakepit of a city."

"Hey!"

Race continued without noticing Jonny's protest. "Now I have to worry about you, too, and Rage's delusions about his long-dead daughter. And in the meantime, I get no closer to putting my fist in Rage's face."

Jessie stomped her foot. "What about me? Don't you think that I need to be with my family at a time like this?"

"You were with your mother."

"You know what I mean, Dad! You would all come flying if it were me in trouble. How do you think I've felt, talking with you all on the phone, miles away and useless?" Hot, angry tears filled her eyes.

Jonny quietly cut in from his father's bedside. "You weren't useless, Jessie." He glanced nervously at Race and then back to Jessie. "I'm glad you're here."

Race wheeled on Jonny and sucked air in through his nostrils, preparing for a rant. He was stopped by a sudden noise within the room.

Everyone froze to listen to a familiar tune.

"That's Hadji's ringtone," Jonny said in quiet disbelief.

They all looked over to the table of flowers where the sound was coming from. Race got there first and began digging through the gifts, scattering dirt, flowers, and cards all over the floor. His pace grew more desperate as the seconds ticked by. The GCPD security detail had opened the door and looked in to see what the commotion was. Race felt the phone in a plastic bag at the bottom of a pot and pulled it out, just as it went silent.

They all stared at one another. Then Race carefully pulled the phone out of the bag, ignoring the protests of the police officer. He pushed a button.

"No caller ID."

The officer, Montoya, if he remembered right, stepped back into the hallway and radioed central to report the find and initiate a trace. She stopped talking when they all heard the phone ring again.

Race looked at the display and saw that it was the unidentified caller again. When Benton held out his hand, Race walked over and solemnly gave him the phone.

Benton took a deep breath and answered the call on speaker phone. "This is Dr. Benton Quest." His commanding voice belied the worry in his eyes.

"Good morning, Dr. Quest. I'm glad you are awake."

"Who is this?" Benton asked, not recognizing the voice of Rendell, Horstman, or Rage.

"I'm just a lowly brother, Dr. Quest. I carry a message from Brother Rage."

"I don't care what Rage has to say. Where is my son?" Benton growled.

"Yes, I suppose let's get that part over with." They heard the faint sound of footsteps and phone static on the other end. Eventually, the caller's voice returned, barely audible. "Say something." They waited in silence.

Nothing. When he could stand it no longer, Benton spoke. "Hadji?"

"Father?" They all breathed a sigh of relief. "I thought…" They heard Hadji take a steadying breath. "I can't tell you how glad I am to hear your voice." His own voice was thick with emotion. "Is ev—." The rest of his words were muffled and they heard static again.

"He's alive, Dr. Quest, although uncooperative. Rage thinks you might be more inclined to assist our cause." He waited for Dr. Quest to respond but was met only with stony silence. "The files you extracted from Dr. Garrett's computer do not concern us. In fact, Brother Rage regrets Rendell's involving you at all. But you are involved now. A file has been uploaded to the phone you are holding. It, too, was encrypted. You have four hours to email the decrypted file back to the address you will also find on that phone. Don't bother trying to contact us if you don't have the file."

The phone went dead before Benton could reply. He let it fall onto the bedcovers and buried his face in his hands. No one moved or said anything, lost in their own thoughts.

Jonny eventually broke the silence. "What do we do?"

Benton shook his head, at a loss for an answer. He would do anything to keep his son alive, including decrypt this file. But would that change anything? The caller didn't even say that they would return Hadji if he followed the instructions. And if he did, how much longer would they all be alive? Anything that helped Rage could spell the end of the world. For all he knew, the file could contain missile launch codes.

"Benton…" Race started to say something but couldn't find the words. "We have to think about this."

"What are you talking about, Dad? They have Hadji!" Jessie was already getting worked up.

Race put up his hands in defense. "I know that, Ponchita. All I said was we have to think. We have time for that."

"Not much," said Jonny. "Depending on the file, we might need all the time we can get."

"Forget the file. Let's use the phone to trace back to Rage. Let's find this guy and put him under once and for all," said Jessie.

"They're working on the trace, but not hopeful." They all turned to look at Officer Montoya, suddenly remembering that she was also in the room. "Give me the email address. We'll start on that."

Benton nodded and picked up the phone. It didn't take him long to find the brotherhood's listing among the contacts. He read it off to Montoya, who left the room again. Then he found the file stored on the phone. Jonny was right. It might take all the time they had to decrypt a file that large.

"Jonny, bring your laptop over," he told his son.

"Stop." Special Agent Ruettiger of the FBI had entered the room. Either he'd been eavesdropping or the room was bugged. "This is a matter of national security now. Dr. Quest, I'm going to have to take that phone. We will return it after we have determined the contents of that file."

He started walking toward Benton's bed but Race stepped in. Ruettiger took a few steps back.

Jessie came over to join her father, arms crossed. "How are you going to figure out the contents of the file without us? Dr. Quest's computer is ten times faster than anything you have."

"Hadji's life is on the line. There's no way we're giving it to you," said Jonny.

"If you won't give it, we'll take it." Ruettiger was not bluffing and they knew it. He didn't look like much himself, but they all knew what he represented. "Dr. Quest, we have to assume that many more lives are at risk than just your son's."

"Hadji would agree with you, Agent Ruettiger," Benton conceded.

"Then he would agree that you have to let us handle this. We will do everything that we can to both eliminate the threat and recover your son."

Benton shook his head. "I'm afraid that's not good enough."

Agent Ruettiger's expression hardened. "I'm placing you all under arrest for obstruction of justice." He open his suit jacket and placed a hand on his sidearm. "Stay where you are. More agents are on the way and they will recover the phone."

"You jerk!" shouted Jessie.

Special Agent Ruettiger's eyes widened. "Holy s—."

Everyone jumped as something heavy slammed into the window behind them. Seconds later, they slowly pulled their hands away from their faces when they realized the glass didn't shatter and nothing explosive had been tossed into the room. They turned to see what made the noise. Race felt sorry for Ruettiger, who was receiving an arctic glare from the Dark Knight. Maybe he had heard everything, or maybe he just looked like that all the time.

"I'm going up to the roof, Pop. Don't do anything yet. Maybe he's got something for us." Jonny breezed past Ruettiger as if he didn't exist.

"I'm coming with," said Jessie.

Race lingered just long enough to nod to Benton and gave Ruettiger a glare of his own before following the teens.

Batman was waiting for them. On his first in-person meeting, Race couldn't help but size up the man and wonder if he could take him in a fight. He had to admit, he had doubts. Jessie seemed to look Batman up and down more as a scientific specimen. Apparently he passed. They stopped about ten feet away, somehow feeling that was close enough for a conversation.

"Hold on a sec." Jessie pulled out her phone and dialed a number. "Dr. Quest? I think you should be in on this but without Agent Smith down there. I'm putting us on speaker phone."

"Thanks, Jessie." They all heard him loud and clear.

"Dr. Quest," Batman started, "my partner gathered information indicating that your personal computer system might be the target of an attack by Rage's Brotherhood. Robin shut the computer cluster down and police are interrogating the members now. Unfortunately, they destroyed the system to prevent data recovery." For a moment Batman looked very, very angry. "While that threat is neutralized, there may be other cells planning similar cyber attacks. Is there anything you can do to raise the security of your system, or even shut it down temporarily? It sounded like they were hoping to infect your system first and use it to spread from there."

"I don't know if you heard our conversation a few minutes ago, but shutting down IRIS is not an option at the moment. We need it to decrypt…" Benton trailed off in mid sentence. "I see. That might have worked." He was silent for a while. "The question is whether IRIS would have been able to quarantine it fast enough."

"Dad, you're talking to yourself." Jonny was very familiar with the tone in his father's voice.

"Sorry. The file we were asked to decrypt in exchange for Hadji? It's not what the file contains that's the danger, it's the file itself. I nearly infected IRIS by my own hand. I can't be sure without analyzing the file, off-line, but if they were serious about attacking IRIS this is one of the few plausible ways to do it. Give my thanks to Robin. He may have just prevented a massive network blackout."

"I will when he wakes up."

"Wakes up?" asked Jessie.

"He was caught at the edge of the blast that destroyed the cluster. Concussion and temporary hearing loss. He'll be fine." Batman's expression darkened. "Rage won't."

"What does this mean about Hadji?" asked Jonny. "They never wanted the file back anyway. They just wanted you to upload it." He ran his hands through his hair. "Don't you see? There is no deal."

Jessie put her arm around Jonny's shoulders and stopped him from pacing. "He's okay, Jonny. He'll be fine as long as they think they can control Dr. Quest." Jonny didn't look convinced but he remained still.

"Deal or no deal, I think we can get him back soon."

They all looked to Batman.

"How?" Race asked shortly.

"The computer programmers mentioned an armory. It's clear now that the Brotherhood has a major cell at Gotham State University and there is an old armory six blocks away from the main campus. If it's the right place, the Brotherhood are meeting there tonight."

"The deadline is before then," said Race.

"And the meeting might be canceled if they think those programmers are snitching," added Jessie.

"Right now the police are reporting them as killed in the blast. Martyrs to the cause," said Batman.

"If you think that's the place and that Hadji might be there, what's stopping you?" asked Benton over the phone.

"Rage might come to the meeting. Even if he doesn't, I can probably get a better lead on where he is in the city and what his plans are. Speaking of which, what do you know about manchineel toxins, Dr. Quest?"

"Not much more than their brief mention in Dr. Garrett's files."

"The cyber attack was only one part of the plan, and I'm not sure that part is done. Another part involves a deadly plant and a psychotic woman who escaped from Arkham last year."

"If I can help, I will," said Dr. Quest. "But Race's point remains. What about Hadji's deadline?"

"We play along," said Jessie. "When the deadline is nearly up, Dr. Quest calls and says he's having trouble deciphering the file because IRIS is acting strange. He begs for more time. They think their program is working and they believe that he'll do anything to keep Hadji alive. It buys more time."

"We're gambling with his life," protested Jonny.

"Batman's right," Jessie countered. "Rage should be the target. The faster we get to him, the faster this all ends and we're all safer." Jessie's eyes left no doubt about how far she would go to take out Rage.

"We have time to think about it," said Benton. His tone implied the conversation was over for the time being. "First, I need to find out if this file is what I think it is."

Race looked Batman square in the eye. "I want to be clear about one thing. Whenever you hit the armory, I'm going with."

"That's not how I operate."

"Your mistake was telling me where to go. I can rephrase it. When I hit the armory, you're welcome to tag along."

"I'm coming too," said Jonny.

"Me too," added Jessie.

"No." Was the firm and simultaneous reply from Batman and Race. When he saw they were about to protest, Race continued. "No one's going anywhere yet. Benton's right. We have time to think." He turned back to Batman. "Meet back here in an hour?"'

Batman pulled out his line launcher. "No promises." With that, he shot off into the Gotham skyline.

Race turned to the teens. "All right, kids. Let's head back down. We have some talking to do once we get Ruettiger out of the room. I think I'll get Corbin started on that right now." He pulled out his phone while Jessie turned off her own. Jonny lingered on the windswept rooftop a little while longer before following them back to his father's hospital room.


	17. The Brotherhood

If the two enemies of human happiness are pain and boredom, Hadji Singh was very unhappy. On the bright side, the blinding pain from what he could only assume was a concussion had mostly faded away. He didn't know if the nausea was a result of his head injury or the car ride, but that too had faded, along with the ringing in his ears from too many close-quarters gunshots. On the less-than-bright side, his entire body ached from sitting in place for too long. What had started as uncomfortable soreness had changed to dull, throbbing pain. He would have liked to take his mind off of his discomfort through meditation, but he was having a difficult time finding of any level of peace, mentally or physically.

Father is alive. He repeated that to himself whenever he began to think about how Rendell had used them. He repeated it each time he overheard more about Rage's genocidal plans. He repeated it whenever he thought about the misguided members of the Brotherhood. When they were all gathered together the night before he saw many young men and women his own age. He tried to talk sense into them. Did they even know that Ezekiel Rage was a murderer? Did they realize that if the Brotherhood succeeded they would be responsible for the deaths of millions of people, including their own family and friends? Some members didn't want to listen, but most were too afraid to listen. When an example was made of Rendell, everyone seemed to shut themselves off. Even if he'd still been able to speak, Hadji knew no one would have listened. They were obeying orders now, answering to Rage's will. Surviving. As the hour approached when Rage himself might make an appearance, more members took on a wild-eyed appearance, as if they found themselves in a nightmare they hoped someone else would end.

Then there were the others, the true strength and terror of the Brotherhood. Brother Greene, the acolyte who had called Dr. Quest, truly believed the world would be better if started anew, no matter what the death toll. Others, like Horstman, liked the structure Rage demanded, mad though his ultimate goal was. And some members of the brotherhood were simply evil. Rage wasn't using them anymore than they were using Rage and the Brotherhood to enable their own sick psychoses.

Brother Daniel was one such follower. Hadji was sure there was childhood trauma somewhere in Daniel's past, probably followed by the disappearance of local pets, bullying behavior as a teen, and abusive behavior as an adult. Sadists don't fit in most social circles, but the Brotherhood of Rage had a place for almost everyone. Brother Daniel was the one who did the jobs everyone else passed on. When Hadji refused to uplink to IRIS, Daniel was the one who had the knife handy. When word arrived that Rage was furious at Rendell for bringing Dr. Quest into their business, Brother Daniel pulled the trigger.

Given the day he'd been having, Hadji felt little shame in the fact that his stomach lurched when he heard someone approaching the door. The rusty old door squealed as it was pushed open. He had to crane his neck around to see the two robed figures enter. Hadji thought he recognized one of the acolytes as a young man Greene had been bossing around. The other figure was still in the shadows of the boiler room but he or she was too small to be Daniel. For that, Hadji breathed a sigh of relief.

"You see? He's alive. Brother Rage has nothing to worry about." Hadji could hear the worry in the lackey's voice.

The new figure had to clear his throat before speaking. "I will be the judge of that, Brother Jensen."

Hadji flinched. The voice was lower than usual, but it definitely belonged to his brother. He was surprised by the amount of anger it contained. Whether the anger was faked or genuine, Brother Jensen heard it and stepped back.

"Everything is under control here. Brother Greene only stepped out for a few minutes. I'm sure he'll be back soon and can report to you."

"So who exactly is in charge right now? You?" Jonny wheeled on the young man. Although he was taller than Jonny by several inches, Jensen cowered even further. "With the screw up at the university, Brother Rage is considering shutting this entire place down."

"No, wait! Everything is going as planned. The mee—."

"Planned? Batman could be studying this place as we speak, not to mention the CIA, FBI, and whoever else Quest has in his pocket. You've got ten minutes to prove _someone_ around here has a brain or I'm recommending that your happy little club be test rats for the plague Brother Rage has been cooking up!"

Jensen's face paled and he looked like he was about to choke. What with the tape covering his mouth, it wasn't difficult for Hadji to disguise his amusement as a coughing fit. Jonny gave him only the briefest of glances. Jonny usually loved to play up a role like this, messing around with the bad guys, but this time the look in his eyes was far from joking. Bruised and tied to a chair, Hadji realized he probably looked as bad as he felt, or worse.

Or maybe Jonny wasn't bluffing. Hadji vaguely remembered Rendell and Horstman passing something back and forth. Something they had brought with them from Greenstone. Was there a plague? Hadji tried to remember what it was, but a lot of what happened at Greenstone was a blur. In fact, the only thing he could distinctly remember was the horror of watching of Rendell walking out of Garrett's office, gun in hand.

"Jesus, don't wet yourself, Jensen." Jonny rolled his eyes. "Just take me back up so I can see that you've got things ready for the meeting." Jonny had his hand on Jensen's shoulder and was guiding him out the door. Moments later, the door squealed shut again and Hadji was left alone.

But not for long, he believed. He began the slow, painful process of flexing his muscles and trying to wiggle his fingers - anything to be ready when Jonny and the cavalry returned. Then Hadji had an unsettling realization: there might not be a cavalry. There was no way Dr. Quest, Race, or anyone with sense would have let Jonny play that role, even if it was for his brother. Jonny had come on his own. And now he was upstairs, surrounded by fanatics, including Horstman. For the 500th time, Hadji steadied his breathing and tried to find the tiniest bit of give in the ropes around his wrists. As the minutes passed he grew more frustrated and once again had to admit that he could barely feel his arms, let alone his wrists.

To his great relief, he heard the door open again, much more quietly, and saw Jonny hurry over.

Jonny flipped his hood back and whispered, "I don't know how much time we have." He pulled out his pocket knife and quickly set to work cutting ropes.

As soon as his hands and arms were freed, Hadji gingerly began rotating them to get circulation back. By the time Jonny cut his legs free he was able to move his fingers enough to rip the tape off of his mouth. The two brothers looked at each other and then shared a fast hug.

"Can you walk?" asked Jonny. Other questions would have to wait.

"Not fast." In fact, when Hadji tried to stand he immediately sat back down again. "Give me a moment." He stretched his legs a few times and felt the painful tingle of blood rushing to his legs. He continued to rub his hands and wrist to get circulation back.

"What happened?" Jonny was looking down at Hadji's left foot and the dark blood that had pooled on the floor.

"Cut." He wasn't ready to give a deeper explanation. "I'll be fine if I can stay off it."

Jonny let it pass for the time being. Hadji watched Jonny pull both of his arms within his robe, almost comically, and then heard a ripping sound. When Jonny poked his arms back out he was holding a piece of what Hadji guessed was his shirt. He held his breath as Jonny crouched down and made fast work binding his foot.

When he was done, Jonny stood up. "That will work for a while, but not long. Luckily the bleeding seems to have slowed down."

Hadji nodded. Then he took a deep breath, gripped Jonny's shoulder, and lifted himself up again, putting all of his weight on his good foot.

Jonny put his arm under his brother's shoulder and tried to steady him. "The caller said something about not cooperating."

"Cooperating with Rage is not an option."

Jonny snorted. "Dad said you might think something like that. It's a good thing somebody around here doesn't listen to reason." They started to slowly work their way to the door, Hadji putting weight on his left foot only for the briefest of moments and relying on Jonny for the rest. By the time they reached the door he had to lean back against the wall to take a brief rest.

"Jonny," he asked softly, "did you come here alone?" Jonny didn't need to say anything because Hadji saw the answer in his eyes. "Thank you," he said, with the solemnity that came naturally to him.

Jonny smiled. "As if you wouldn't do it for me. Although, I admit you might have planned further ahead. My plan after this is to walk out of here."

Hadji laughed quietly. "Simple plans are often the best." They would find a way out. They always did.

"At least I thought far enough ahead to bring an extra one of these." Jonny stepped away just long enough to reach under his own robe and pull out a second. "Welcome to the Brotherhood."

Hadji looked at the robe with disgust but then pulled it over his head with Jonny's help. They both raised their hoods and took a look at one another. Half of their faces were shadowed but anyone who had a mind to look closer could recognize them. In low voices they described what they each knew about the layout of the building. Jonny had brazenly walked in through the front door, of course. Hadji had been brought in through a garage bay area. They both agreed that the nearest exit was probably in the garage. It wasn't very far, but it wasn't close either. They would have to hope no one took a close look at them.

"Why did you not wait for the others?" Hadji asked.

"There's supposed to be a meeting tonight."

"I know."

"Batman wanted to wait and see if Rage would come."

"I see." What Hadji thought of the decision to wait, only he would ever know.

"I don't care about Rage or the meeting. Let's just get out of here."

"Wait, Jonny. The plague you mentioned. Were you serious?"

Jonny nodded. "Batman thinks Poison Ivy developed biological weapons from a plant. Rage has thought of all sorts of ways to bring this city down. "

"Oh." Hadji was deep in thought.

"Oh? What?"

"Horstman had something with him from Greenstone. I thought it might that, or an antidote, but that doesn't seem right..."

"Let someone else worr—."

The rest of Jonny's sentence was cut off by an animal roar that cut through even the brick walls of the old armory. Jonny and Hadji looked at one another, each hoping the other knew what had made such a sound. Neither did. Jonny reached up into his robe again and pulled out two stun guns. He handed one to Hadji. "It's the best I could do on short notice."

Hadji took it. "While I am grateful, I don't know if it's powerful enough to stop whatever that was."

"Let's hope we don't cross paths with it before we're out."

There was a loud crashing noise somewhere far off in the building, strong enough for them to feel the floor shake. They looked at each other again, but what was there to do? Jonny opened the door. It again made a horrible shrieking noise but he doubted anyone was paying attention to that now. Whatever was roaring might just be doing them a favor. The two young men began making their way along the dark and damp basement corridor of the old armory. They took their time on the stairway at the end of the hall, with Hadji leaning on Jonny for support. When they reached the top, Jonny looked out into the hall and saw several people in robes hurrying in various directions. Distracted as they were, he thought they could make it further without being noticed. Hadji remembered the garage being off the back of the gymnasium. All they had to do was walk ahead, duck into the gymnasium, cut across to the back, and get out.

They were about to step into the hall when there was another guttural roar, this time much closer. The Brothers and Sisters of Rage still in the building began running. Jonny thought maybe they could blend in and leave with the crowd. Suddenly, he recognized a figure hurrying his way. He motioned for Hadji to go back while he himself stepped out into the hallway and closed the stairway door.

"Brother Sylvester!"

So maybe their robes were not a foolproof disguise. Jensen had recognized him right away and even remembered the fake name he'd come up with. He was about to respond when Brother Jensen grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him back against the door.

"We did nothing wrong! It was all Rendell and he's gone. Is Brother Rage so upset that he would destroy all of us?" The young man looked unhinged.

Jonny had to play it cool. After he had finished touring with Jensen he assured him that Rage would be satisfied with his report. Then he had excused himself, really to return and rescue Hadji. Of course, he didn't actually make a report. He had no idea what Rage was up to.

"Do not question the Book of Rage!" Jonny yelled, figuring that was as safe a response as any.

There was another boom and several old hanging lights crashed to the floor. Jensen ducked and let out a short cry. Jonny tried to pry the mans fingers off of his robe. He was dying to ask what was making all of the noise but figured the real messenger of Rage would already know the answer to that question. Instead he demanded, "Where is everyone going?"

Jensen sounded dazed. "Leaving. Rage is angry. He is killing his faithful." Jensen let go of Jonny and continued down the hallway, toward the loud noises. Jonny was about to order him to leave as well when the wall exploded and a solid wooden desk flew across the hallway and crashed through a door on the opposite side, taking most of the doorframe with it. He couldn't be sure with all of the brick dust in the air, but Jonny thought Jensen might have been past the danger zone. Another roar followed that was so loud that the walls shook and Jonny covered his ears. He felt the door open behind him. He was undecided between backing out to safety or waiting just long enough to find out what was making that sound. Hadji made the decision for him by yanking his robe and pulling him back into the stairwell. They closed the door and waited in silence.

Seconds or minutes went by, they couldn't tell which, with no sound from the hallway. The animal could be on the other side of the building or stalking their door. Eventually they looked at each other, both thinking that they would have to make a move sometime. They each got their stun guns ready and Jonny cracked open the door.

Another crash immediately shook the building, but they could tell it wasn't as close this time.

"Where is it?!" a voice howled, the sound echoing throughout the building.

Jonny looked back at Hadji and could tell he shared the same surprise. Whatever was making that noise could talk? Jonny tried to imagine someone that could throw a wooden desk like that. All he could think of was a yeti. In Gotham?

He felt a nudge from behind. Time to go. Jonny took another quick peek into the hallway. It was empty save for the dusty air and broken lamps. He slipped his arm under Hadji's shoulder and by unspoken agreement they turned to the right, away from the destruction. It might take them longer, but hopefully it would be safer. They might even find a side door.

They made quick progress down the hall and into the side corridor. There they saw two robed brothers, who gave them only a passing glance. Their hopes rose briefly when they saw an exit, only to look closer and find that it was chained shut. Jonny was about to make a quip about fire codes when they heard the distant sounds of smashing. They continued and turned the corner to find a different entrance to the gymnasium.

The door was open and it was clear the creature, or whatever it was, had already been there. The Brotherhood had been expecting a big crowd for the meeting and the gym was set up as an auditorium. The monster had left a wake in the orderly rows of wooden folding chairs. An entire section of the track balcony running the circumference of the room had been knocked to the old hardwood floor. Remnants were still hanging from the walls like entrails.

As they made their way across the gym Hadji recognized the solid marble pieces of the altar, each probably weighing at least 500 pounds, lying in the debris of the collapsed balcony. He also saw the scarred hardwood floor where the alter used to stand, and the blood-stained wood only a few feet away.

Jonny felt Hadji tremble and then start to drop. He quickly wrapped his arms around his brother and guided him over to one of the upright chairs. Hadji immediately put his hands on his knees and lowered his head. Jonny could tell by the breathing that he was on the verge of being sick.

"We'll go slower. We're almost there."

Hadji was desperately trying to regain control of his body and stop himself from either throwing up or passing out. "A moment," was all he managed to say.

"That's not yours, is it?"

Hadji knew by the tone of Jonny's voice that he had also noticed the bloodstain.

"Rendell's. They made everyone watch. 'Bonded by blood,' Brother Daniel said."

"And guilt," said Jonny grimly. For many in the Brotherhood, it was probably their first taste of just what kind of a man Rage was. "No backing out after that." Jonny couldn't see his face beneath the hood, but he had a feeling Hadji had a front-row seat for the entire thing. He sat down next to his brother and put his hand on his shoulder, not knowing what else to say.

A short time later Hadji was breathing normal again. When he stood up with Jonny's help, he was still lightheaded but the tunnel vision and nausea were gone.

A door burst open at the far side of the gymnasium and they saw a robed member of the Brotherhood hurry across the floor. Hadji stiffened when he recognized Horstman and the brace on his right hand. Horstman must have recognized them as well because he slid to a stop. He reached into his robes to grab something and then stopped, as if realizing that he wasn't carrying what he needed. Jonny held up his stun gun and triggered the test electrodes, creating a small but bright blue arc of electricity. No one said anything.

After a moment, Horstman gave a noise of disgust and turned as if to continue quickly on his way. Hadji and Jonny immediately relaxed.

The floor trembled and the entire doorway and wall Horstman had entered through exploded inward in a shower of brick and timber. Hadji and Jonny instinctively ducked behind the chairs, flimsy cover though they were. Jonny clapped his hands over his ears but the roar he was expecting never came. Horstman ran to a door at the opposite side of the gym, only to find it locked.

Killer Croc stepped from the swirling dust.

Jonny instantly recalled the few articles he had read about the man-monster. The description and photographs didn't do justice to the nightmarish gray, scabbed skin and inhuman maw of crowded sharp teeth. Seeing that Horstman was trapped, Croc walked in with slow menace. His smile was sickening. Wood splintered and the floor groaned with each deliberate step he took toward Horstman. The closer he got, the clearer it was that Croc towered over Horstman. Jonny was amazed how composed Horstman appeared when he turned to face Croc.

"Where is it?" The thick, reptilian voice carried across the room.

"It's not ready." Horstman's voice sounded clogged through the nose Batman had smashed earlier.

"Not what I asked," said Croc, shaking his head. Less than fifteen feet remained between the two men.

"It's in Brother Greene's office."

"Liar!" Croc stomped on the floor and a small section of the balcony collapsed behind him.

"It's there." Horstman hadn't lost his cool yet, but there was a slight tremor in his voice. "In the safe."

During the exchange, Jonny and Hadji had begun backing out of the gymnasium as discretely as possible, toward the garage bay entrance.

Croc picked up an iron beam and swung it a few times as if to test its weight. "The safe was -," he leaned in close when he emphasized the last word -"empty."

Horstman backed away from the razor sharp teeth and foul breath. "Then they took it. Brother Greene and Brother Daniel."

"Greene is dead," Killer Croc gloated.

"What?" Horstman flinched. "Brother Rage would never allow that. Greene was in charge of this team."

"Rage has his agenda. I have mine. Where is this Brother Daniel?" Croc took a swing and smashed a deep hole in the floor next to Horstman.

"Run off to Rage, probably. I don't know. I haven't seen him since you started tearing up the place."

Croc reared back roared. He swung again and caught Horstman in the chest, knocking him twenty feet across the floor. Unfortunately for Jonny and Hadji, Horstman landed in their direction. Croc paused and smelled the air. Then he locked eyes on them. They were close to the door, and yet so far away. Having few other options, they both took up defensive postures and held their stun guns ready. Croc laughed, an awful grating sound. When the echoes stopped they heard Horstman moaning in pain.

"Don't go anywhere, boys," Croc said and then turned back to Horstman. Jonny and Hadji immediately started for the door anyway. When they reached it, they both turned back and saw Killer Croc raise the beam high into the air. He was about to bring it smashing down on Horstman, who seemed unable to do anything more than wait for the killing blow.

"Wait!" Jonny yelled. He did it without thinking and immediately regretted drawing attention to himself. Fortunately, Croc was distracted by something else.

A cable snapped around the iron beam and ripped it out of Croc's hands, throwing it to the far side of the gymnasium. They all looked over to see Batman standing on part of the balcony that was still attached to the wall.

"I never took you for a religious man, Croc." Batman's deep voice echoed in the room.

"I finally found one I like." Croc gave Horstman a vicious kick in the stomach and then squared himself to Batman. "I especially like the part about the end of the world. I've always been a survivor."

"Not going to happen."

"Even if you stop me, it's coming. You think I'm crazy? You should meet this nut Rage." Croc began walking toward Batman and the debris pile.

"Help us stop him, Croc, and things will be better for you."

"Look at me." Croc held his muscular arms wide, exposing his mutated body. "Things will never be better for me, Bats." He kicked aside some flooring and uncovered one of the marble altar pieces. Batman saw what he was doing and fired his grapnel gun. It wrapped tightly around Croc's torso but he was still able to reach up and grab the line. He yanked the device right out of Batman's hands. "One down. How many more toys you got up there?" He cackled as he snapped the cable from his chest. Then he bent over and wrapped his arms around the solid altar stone.

Jonny had been watching so intently that he jumped when a hand came down hard on his shoulder. He was whipped around and face to face with Race, who did not look happy.

"Get him out of here." Race ordered, pointing to Hadji and then the door. He yanked their hoods back so he could see their faces. "Commissioner Gordon is waiting outside with a few officers." He turned and put his hand more gently on Hadji's shoulder. "There's an ambulance waiting."

"What about you?" Jonny asked.

"I think this might be a two-man clean up job," Race answered. He reached down and grabbed the stun gun from Jonny's hand. "Give me that." He was wearing black combat gear and added it to the various weapons stashed on his body. "We'll talk later, Jonathan Quest." He pushed them both toward the door. "If I see either of you in here from this point on…"

"We're going," Hadji assured Race before the threat could be finished. "Be careful." Hadji knew that Jonny didn't want to leave Race with that monster, and neither did he, but he knew that he was a liability. He began painfully limping his way toward the door and Jonny soon caught up to help him, as he knew he would. He still had his own stun gun and held it up so the electricity snapped briefly. "You know, I've always been curious about these."

"We're not out out of Gotham yet," said Jonny.


	18. Bringing Down the House

With the boys safely out, Race turned his full attention to the two fighters in the gymnasium, particularly the gigantic creature hefting a slab of solid stone from the floor. Killer Croc cocked his arm back to prepare for the throw.

"Well, Bats? Why don't you come on down before I make you come down?"

"I'm not the one going down tonight. Last chance, Croc."

"Even if Rage is a crackpot, the world will be a better place without you!" Croc grunted and launched the marble slab at Batman. It smashed through the balcony railing and half of the floor before crashing back to the ground. Batman was nowhere near it by the time it hit, already on the offensive with a flying kick.

Croc was expecting it. He reached up and grabbed Batman's leg and shoulder just before contact. Then he spun around and used the Dark Knight's momentum to throw him against the wall. Tiles broke on impact and Batman fell to the floor with a grunt. He got on his feet and squared himself just as Croc got his hands on another iron beam, this one with a nasty bend to it.

"Put it down, Snaggletooth."

Croc turned and noticed Race for the first time. He also noticed the M16 the former I-1 agent was aiming directly at his chest. Croc gave a short, harsh laugh. "New in town?" He dug his toes into the floor and then charged at Race, swinging the beam in a wicked arc.

"His skin!" Batman tried to warn Race.

Race quickly realized what Batman meant as his first rounds glanced off of Croc's scaly skin. A few appeared to penetrate, but that didn't slow down the monster. Race ducked under the swing that would have taken his head clean off. He shouldered the gun and also leaped back to avoid Croc's nasty backswing. Nearby chairs were sent flying clear across the room. Race pulled out the stun gun, thinking it was worth a try. When Croc came back with a crushing downward blow, Race stepped out of the way just in time. While the beam was still lodged in the floor, Race jumped on top, knocking it from Croc's hand. Race managed to get the stun gun's prongs on Croc's shoulder and give him a good, long ZAP!

Which did nothing. Race felt the briefest tugging sensation as Croc grabbed him by the back of his body armor. Then he was sailing backward through the air. He managed to twist around and avoid the hefty upright speaker we was thrown at. He was not able to avoid the nearby table. His chest exploded in pain as he caught the corner and collapsed together with the table.

At least Croc threw him far enough away that he had a moment to catch his breath, painful though it was. Despite his cracked, if not broken, ribs, he was optimistic. Just before crash landing he'd seen that his attack had given Batman enough time to surreptitiously loop cables around Croc's neck and arms.

Croc noticed them just before Batman attached them to his grapnel line and fired it at the balcony on the other side of the gym. Croc roared as he was yanked off his feet and back through the sea of chairs. When he reached the other side, the line only pulled him a few inches off the ground before stalling from his weight. He quickly gave up trying to loosen the cables and started swinging his feet. The balcony bowed and groaned under his weight. Batman glanced around the gymnasium and quickly realized that he was running out of leverage in the crumbling old structure.

The balcony rail gave way and Croc fell heavily onto his back. A second later the entire balcony buckled with a metallic shriek. Beams and flooring crashed down on top of Croc and piled up on the floor.

There was a moment of silence as the dust settled. Batman took the opportunity to prepare for his next attack. If he couldn't string Croc up, maybe he could take him down. When he was done, he drew his cape close and waited. He wasn't surprised when Croc punched a fist up through the debris and began shoving entire sections of floor off of his body.

Race had dusted himself off and watched Batman work, guessing the Dark Knight's plan. Now that Croc was stirring, he went over to join Batman. He asked loud enough for Croc to hear, "Can he take a Hellfire missile?"

Batman appeared to think for a moment and then answered,"Do it."

Croc roared even louder, "I'll rip you both apart!" He was still lifting a section of the balcony off one of his legs.

Race made a big show of punching a few buttons on his watch. When done, he pulled out a combat knife. "I've got some old gater-skin boots back home. High time I got a new pair." He settled into an attack stance and made the knife dance between his hands.

Batman, meanwhile, was still as a statue. "Give yourself up, Croc. The Gotham City Police have this place surrounded and there's more heavy firepower on the way."

"I can keep this up all night, Batman. You're the one on the clock." When Batman only scowled, Croc sneered. "That's right. The countdown has started. This was just a pathetic scout club. Rage has people all over the city. The real party's about to get started."

"Looks like you're not even invited. Rage probably tricked you into coming here, knowing that I would take you down. You've outlived your use."

"He sent me here to destroy you. Of course you would come, with that boy here. I got to play first, too. I was actually doing you a favor, tearing up people like that sad sack." He pointed at the unmoving form of Horstman.

Batman briefly wondered what they would find in the other rooms of the armory. He'd seen Croc's handiwork before.

"I call bullshit," said Race. Once again, Croc seemed to have forgotten the other man was in the room. "Rage may be crazy, but he has standards. Rage was using you. You say he sent you to kill Batman? How many times has that worked out for you? Face it, Boots, you're just the distraction."

Croc seemed to think about what Race said. Then he looked back at Batman, "Whether he sent me or I was tricked, I will win because you have limits. You won't kill me, but I will gladly kill you." Croc licked his lips at the last part.

"Maybe he won't kill, but I will." Race wasn't used to being ignored and Gotham was now easily on his list of top ten hated cities. "Tell me where Rage is." He checked his watch. "ETA is one minute, forty seconds, Croc."

"A missile will kill us all."

"Believe me, locking onto you will be no problem for the boys."

"Then I'll take you with me!" Croc growled and sprinted toward Race and Batman.

Neither of them moved.

Croc realized a split second before it happened that he was running into a trap. Batman's explosives went off simultaneously and Croc was thrown up into the air and then came crashing down through the ragged hole in the gymnasium floor. He disappeared with a roar that was cut short when he hit the floor below.

Batman edged close to the splintered edge and peered down into the subfloor. He realized too late that the basement was only ten feet deep. Croc bounded up and wrapped a clawed hand around Batman's leg. Croc pulled, yanking the Dark Knight down through the already weak flooring. Croc then hauled himself back up onto the floor with surprising speed. He spun just in time to deflect Race's knife thrust at his armpit. Race, in turn, avoided Croc's swing and again dove in with his knife, this time aiming for the hamstring. Croc turned just enough that the blade skidded across his scaly hide instead of biting in. This time Race couldn't move away fast enough and Croc landed a meaty fist on his back, driving him to the floor. Race rolled away just in time to avoid getting stomped on.

Not one to give up, the former agent sheathed the knife and pulled out a handgun. He picked a spot and unloaded the entire clip at Croc's chest in a three-inch radius. He was gratified to see that Croc actually felt the last few. The career criminal stumbled and clutched his chest. Race backed up and reloaded with a fresh clip. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Batman hauling himself out of the hole.

Croc also noticed Batman and lashed out with his foot as if to kick him back down. In a flash, Batman caught Croc's foot and twisted, hard. Croc fell heavily to the floor but his foot and ankle remained solid. He kicked with the other foot and caught Batman square in the chest, sending him flying back onto a tangle of beams and splintered wood.

Croc was fast too. He picked up a chair, turned it on edge, and threw it at Race. Race dodged the first one, but the second one knocked the gun out of his hands, the third clipped him in the shoulder, and the fourth one cracked him on the chin. Suddenly Croc was holding him up by his body armor.

"I don't like you," Croc growled. He bared his teeth and Race was disgusted to see they were bloody. Figuring Croc's skull had to be thicker than his own, Race skipped the headbutt and reached for his stun gun again. The electric arc was only millimeters away from Croc's eyeball when he threw Race clear across the gymnasium.

Killer Croc turned back to Batman, who was struggling to get up from the debris pile. Croc jumped and landed on one of Batman's boots, painfully pinning his foot to the ground. Then he grabbed a cement block from the floor and raised it above his head. Batman tensed and prepared to roll out from under Croc's foot.

There was a loud clanging noise and then a shriek from above. One of the old basketball hoops that had been rigged to the ceiling came arcing down. The metal support caught Croc in the head and sent him spinning into the wall. Other parts of the roof and walls began tumbling to the floor as well. Batman backed away as one entire wall buckled and opened up to the sky, burying Croc under thousands of tons of bricks and mortar.

This time, when the dust had settled, Croc didn't re-surface.

Batman took his time making his way over to where Race sat on the floor, gingerly rotating his arm and shoulder. Batman offered him a hand up, which Race accepted.

"Is this normal for you?" Race asked.

"It's not uncommon," Batman admitted.

"Huh," was Race's only response.

"Nice bluff," said Batman.

"Bluff?"

"The missile."

"Oh, right." Race typed a code into his watch. "Yeah, it was more like ETA 20 minutes. They're fast, but not that fast."

Batman looked at him closely. " A blast like that could have killed him."

"That's the idea," Race said simply.


	19. Long Night

Gotham was in chaos. The streets were clogged with cars and trucks, all stuffed and piled high with suitcases, boxes, furniture, and crying children. A stream of people wove in and around stalled vehicles, ignoring the desperate owners who could not decide between joining them or staying with their possessions.

News reporters were camped out in various parts of the city, chasing one explosion or outbreak after another. They looked laughable in their armored gear and hazmat suits, but no one within the city limits was paying attention to fashion. City offices quickly became madhouses when reports of the bombings began flooding in. Then they turned into bedlam when everyone's cellphone lost its signal and even the landlines went dead. A few loyal staffers transformed into runners, carrying hand-scribbled notes to offices and police stations as fast as their feet could carry them. Rumor had it there was still reception in Coventry and there was talk about setting up a temporary base of operations to coordinate state and federal assistance, but they abandoned that idea when another report came in that the Sigsworth building, and it's tower, was a smoldering heap.

Hospitals and emergency rooms overflowed with patients. There were the usual casualties of panic: broken arms, wrists, and legs from collisions, exhausted and dehydrated families, and scores of people who had been injured during fights and looting. But most of the patients were suffering from exposure to the plant toxin. Each new explosion carried the poisoned smoke through the streets and alleys of the city. The luckier ones only felt their skin start to tingle and then painfully blister with open red sores. People unlucky enough to be downwind quickly felt the sting of smoke in their eyes explode into a burning sensation that left them blind and screaming on the pavement. By midnight, the mayor had reports of 247 deaths caused by asthma attacks and other pulmonary reactions to the toxin. Another sixty-three people were killed by sporadic violence, and twenty-one of those were from the bloody mess found in the old Gorman Street Armory. Damage and casualty reports from the thirty-or-so bombings across the city were still coming in.

Commissioner Gordon ordered a massive force across the river to protect Gotham Light and Power. He, like most Gothamites, was expecting the electricity to go off at any minute. He sent Det. Harvey Bullock back to the Armory to look around and find anything that might lead them to Rage. It was hard sparing even one officer from emergency detail, but if Rage was thinking big-picture, he had to as well. If everything the Quests and I-1 had told him about Ezekiel Rage was true, the worst was yet to come.

The only things going in his favor were the re-uniting of the Quest family and the steady apprehension of Brothers and Sisters of Rage. Surely they would find someone in their holding cells who was willing to rat on Rage. All they had to do was lean harder.

Jim Gordon gave orders to start the questioning again and then went to his office, closed the door, and allowed himself to sit down for a few seconds. He threw his glasses onto the desk and rubbed his eyes. He sincerely hoped the burning sensation he felt was from lack of sleep rather than exposure to the toxin. He was too tired to jump when he heard tapping on the window behind him. Break over, he grabbed his glasses and turned to the window.

It was not what he expected. Instead of seeing the Dark Knight's brooding mass, he saw a much slimmer figure. And she was smirking at him. Gordon stood up to open the window and Catwoman lithely stepped in, her claws briefly scratching against the glass.

"Ms. Kyle," he greeted her.

"Commissioner." She coiled her whip around her body and took a seat on top of his desk.

"People seem to forget that I do have a front door."

"Not for people like me," she said. "And not on a night like this."

"I wouldn't let you in if it weren't a night like this." He was telling the truth. Selina Kyle was hardly an upstanding citizen of Gotham, but she was resourceful and he was desperate for allies. He only wondered what the price would be. "Well?" he demanded.

"Believe me, I'm not hot about making a trip to the local police, but I'm less excited about watching a madman burn the city to the ground."

"Slim pickings in a wasteland."

She smiled at him. "Something like that." She continued. "We have a common acquaintance and for the time being I'm playing with him." She tossed a flash drive onto Gordon's desk. "Those are maps and files from Rendell's place that show some of the other sites that are going to be blasted in the next few hours."

Gordon picked up the flash drive. "My officers already searched Rendell's apartment."

Catwoman rolled her eyes. "And what a fine job they did. While Rage's zealots are good at causing traffic jams and spreading crazy, he seems to have outsourced the heavy work to Gotham's own. Nitro and the bombs are all yours. We've got other things to deal with."

"Is this everything?"

"I doubt it. Nitro's been stockpiling a lot more fuel than what he needs for the marks listed on that."

"Wonderful."

"Cheer up, Gordon. There's always a chance that Ivy will get bored and kill Rage." With that, Catwoman slipped back through the window and dove into the glowing night sky.


	20. Temporary Digs

"Make way!" The double doors of the lab burst open as Barbara Gordon pushed in a cart stacked with computers. Only after she glanced around the room to find the best power source and ditched the cart did she turn to the people looking at her. She recognized most of them from the news reports. "We talked on the phone, Dr. Quest," she said as she walked up to one of the world's leading scientists to shake his hand. "I'm Commissioner Gordon's daughter, Barbara."

"You?" Jonny could not hide his surprise at seeing the _very_ impressive gymnast again, and finding out that she was the daughter of Commissioner Gordon.

Dr. Quest glanced at his son. "You've met?"

"On campus today."

Barbara looked at him closely and then smiled. "Right, the visitor. Umm…"

"Jonny."

"Yes, Jonny. Good to see you again." She turned. "And you must be Jessie."

"That would be me." Jessie confirmed.

"Extraordinary,' remarked Benton, looking between Barbara and Jessie. "You two could be sisters."

Barbara smiled. Jessie tried.

Jonny cleared his throat. "So, what have you brought?"

Barbara looked back at the computer equipment she had hauled in. "I tried to grab everything I could from the list you gave my dad, Dr. Quest. That's just load one. I'll be back shortly with the rest."

"Where did you get it?"

"Some of it's mine, but most is…borrowed… from Gotham State." She looked back at him. "I left a note."

"'Desperate times….' Let's get started. Jonny, please help Ms. Gordon with the rest. We'll start setting things up here. I'm afraid you'll have to be my hands, Jessie."

Jessie wasn't delighted with the idea of Jonny going off to help Barbara, but she knew what needed to be done. When injured people began flooding into the hospital earlier that evening, Dr. Mendoza and various concerned security details had seen to it that the Quest family was moved up into one of the CDC emergency response labs where they could work. Although he was alert, Dr. Quest was still confined to a hospital bed and under strict orders to remain still. "Of course, Dr. Quest," she agreed.

She walked over to the cart and began untangling cables and uncovering towers. Even at first glance she was impressed with the pile. They had only managed to gather a few of their own computers and were barely connected to the outside world through the satellite link Race pulled from the Dragonfly. The new equipment would make their command center a reality. She and Dr. Quest had been able to shut down several other clusters on the eastern coast through key phone calls and some cyber-attacks of their own, but they lost momentum when the city com towers began falling. Now they could get back to business. She barely noticed when Jonny and Barbara came back, laughing, with the second load. Everyone quickly settled into getting things up and running under Dr. Quests guidance. Once in a while he and Barbara strayed into conversations that left even Jonny and Jessie looking at each other in confusion.

It was nearly three a.m. when Officer Montoya opened the door to let in Race. What with his protective goggles, an ugly bruise spreading across his chin, and the black body armor, Race looked like someone you wanted to avoid on the streets.

Barbara merely glanced over. "Hello again, Race."

Race looked at her and put the pieces together. "You're Gordon's daughter?"

"The one and only. By the way, Dad wanted to me to tell you all that the Gotham Police don't often recruit civilian help, myself included, but special circumstances and all that..."

"Understood." Race realized he still had his goggles on and took them off before addressing Benton. "How are things?" His question seemed to cover everything.

"Fine." Benton's reply and shrug seemed to answer everything, given the circumstances. "Our connection with IRIS is patchy, but we now have satellite monitoring of the city. I'm working from the theory that Ms. Isley harvested most of her manchineel toxin, rather than engineered it, which means she had to have an environment suitable for the tropical plant. So far we have sixty hot spots and we're narrowing the count."

"Sixty sounds like a lot."

Benton nodded in agreement. "We've been cross checking addresses with Robin to see if we get any connections. How are you holding up?"

Race shrugged. "I'll live. The good news is it's becoming clear that the Brotherhood was not ready for this. Like it or not, Rendell might have been doing everyone a favor getting things started. A few more days out and the attacks would have all been coordinated."

"What happened to Croc?" asked Jonny, finally pausing from his work at a computer station.

"Down for the count with a broken leg and serious head wound. They're taking him to some prison hospital."

"Arkham," Barbara supplied.

"Right. I got to spend most of the evening with a fine piece of humanity." His sarcasm was obvious. "Whatever else I can say about Detective Bullock, he gets the job done." Race thought he heard a snort from outside the lab door. "We waded through the mess at the armory until we found the office. Most of the papers had to do with members of the GSU brotherhood. The man we found there…." Race paused as if remembering something he would just as soon forget. "We found his ID and Bullock called it in. Turns out he's racked up a lot of parking tickets around Cathedral Square. We also found a lot of books about Old Town and some of the tunnel systems they used back during the war. It's a long shot, but they're setting up surveillance right now."

"These are delicious."

Everyone turned to see that Hadji had silently entered the room in his pajamas and hospital robe and was busily eating cookies. Bruce Wayne had sent his butler over with well-wishes and a basket of food. There was no denying that Mr. Pennyworth's chocolate chip cookies were good, but Hadji was stuffing his face at a surprising pace.

Jonny looked at his brother with raised eyebrows. "How are you feeling there, champ?" With his various bruises and bandages, he certainly didn't look good.

"Fantastic," said Hadji with a full mouth.

"Hadji, when was the last time you took a pain killer?" asked Dr. Quest curiously.

"Absolutely," was his son's confident answer.

"I think you should get some more rest," sighed Dr. Quest, and then he gave Jonny a pointed look.

Jonny stood up to usher Hadji back to his bed in the side room. Hadji, crumbs on his face, backed away and clutched the bag of cookies to his chest. "No, I'm awake now. I want to help. We will bring Rage down together. And I will eat cookies."

"Well at least sit down and put your foot up. You shouldn't be standing like that." Jessie wanted to take a photo of him in his semi-dazed condition, but there were other matters to deal with. Plus, Hadji had plenty of blackmail material of his own if he ever had a mind to retaliate.

With an exaggerated sigh, Hadji limped over to one of the empty rolling chairs and sat down. Then he rolled over to the side table, grabbed the entire basket of food, and rolled back before putting his foot up on another chair.

Barbara, who wasn't familiar enough with the family to appreciate the situation, brought them back to the business at hand. "I remember looking at the cathedral area on the satellite maps. There weren't any hot spots."

Race and the others gathered close around her computer as she brought the location up again on satellite. Several areas glowed in the infrared, but none in the size they were looking for.

"Back out a moment," said Jonny, looking closely over her shoulder. "Zoom out. There. You can see the heat from the fires that are burning around the city right now.

"But not in that district," said Jessie, seeing what Jonny had noticed.

"So we're on the right track."

"But what does that mean about Ivy?" asked Jessie.

"Nothing," said Benton. "She might be there, she might not. We were just working from the assumption that she needs a hothouse for that many plants."

"Hold on a sec," said Jonny, waving a hand for everyone to stop talking. "Robin's back on the line." Jonny pressed the headset closer to his ear while the others watched him intently. "Have you been listening to us this entire time?" he asked after some time had passed. If the others had been curious, Jonny nodded to let them know that Robin, and probably Batman, had been listening in. Then he gently pushed Barbara out of the way and used her computer to move the satellite target to a new area of the city. As he zoomed closer to the area of Sheldon Park they could all see the rectangular blooms of heat.

"Yeah, we see it." He listened some more and then zoomed the image to an area near the building. Several large trucks were parked in a lot. "We see those too. What's the plan?" More waiting as Robin responded. "Don't yo—. Yeah, but—. Fine." With a huff, Jonny pulled off the headset and handed it to Race.

After a few seconds of listening, all Race said was, "I'll be there." Then he handed the set back to Jonny.

"Well?" asked Jessie.

"That's Ivy," said Race.

Jonny explained. "Robin took our list of hot spots and something clicked within their system. I guess they've been tailing a supplier for the Brotherhood for a few days and this guy mentioned doing a lot of shipments to and from this area."

"So she is separate from Rage," said Barbara.

"If she's there," said Benton.

"Either way it means two problems," said Hadji.

"I say we go for Rage," said Jonny. "He's the cause of all this."

"'We' aren't doing anything," said Race. "I'm meeting up with Batman in a few minutes. You all are in charge of running things from here."

"Are you serious?" Jessie fumed. "There's no way you're going after Rage alone."

"Jessie, just because the three of you kids get into trouble a lot and come out the other side doesn't mean you should go looking for it. And don't think I don't know who brought the ceiling down on Croc."

"Hey, I didn't leave Hadji's side!" Jonny protested.

"It is true, Race," Hadji confirmed.

"Oh, I figured that." Race looked at them each in turn, and then let his eyes settle on his daughter.

Jessie crossed her arms and said, not very convincingly, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Race grimaced and wondered how much of their visit to Gotham he and Jessie would have to hide from her mother. He put his goggles back on. "I'm instructing Officer Montoya out there to take you down if any of you so much as puts a toe out the door."

"Come on!" Jonny yelled.

"Jonny," said Benton, "The fact that you kids even thought for a moment that we might let you back out there is bad enough." Relieved as he was to have Hadji returned safe, Benton had yet to have a long conversation with Jonny about his actions. "Rage and Ivy have the advantage in this city and we can't take unnecessary risks."

"Then why is Race going?" asked Jonny. "They already have agents crawling the city and now they'll know where to look for Rage and Ivy."

"I'm going because I said I'm going," said Race. "I can give them advice about how Rage operates. You can too, but from the sidelines."

"Dad." Jessie's anger had turned to worry.

Race walked over to her and cupped her chin in his hand. "I'll be fine. We'll have a team and do this by the numbers. It's time to put the Brotherhood to rest."

She nodded and then backed away.


	21. Midnight in the Garden

Pamela Isely was running out of time. Like the killing frost of winter, someone was coming to destroy her beautiful garden. She paused to tour her most recent paradise, knowing that it might be her last chance to enjoy it. She walked first to her indoor grove of greenery, ducking under leafy branches and around hearty tree trunks. She plucked a "little apple" from her manchineel orchard, immune to the toxic sap that was now wreaking havoc throughout the city. It had taken years for the grove to flourish, but now the plants were strong. They even survived a harsh winter without love when she was imprisoned in her stark cell in Arkham. She took a bite of the fruit, tasting the zest of poison that was merely a spice to her lips. She nibbled at the forbidden fruit as she continued strolling through the garden.

She examined her lovely blossoms of oleander and then wandered through the specially grown field of Belladonna. She threw the remains of the manchineel fruit to the side and fell back onto a mossy patch near a stand of English yew, stretching luxuriously among the green and red foliage. She rolled onto her side to reach out and ever-so-gently run her finger along a nearby Mimosa pudica. She watched in delight, as she had as a child, as the tiny leaflets folded up, one after another.

"Sister."

Pamela frowned at the interruption. The plants around her involuntarily released more poison along their stems and into the air. Sister Katrina would feel the effects in a few hours. For the time being, the middle-aged woman was healthy and serious, as always. Very few of the acolytes Rage sent to Poison Ivy's gardens stayed for very long (alive at least). Katrina had stayed and, truth be told, was an adept undergardener. But she had the personality of a fungus. She now stood patiently waiting, feet safely in rubber boots, hands tucked deep within the sleeves of her robe, and face bowed beneath her unbecoming black robe.

"Yes, Katrina?" Poison Ivy rolled onto her back again and spread her hair around her head, breathing in the garden as long as she could.

"All but four of the trucks have gone. Brother Eric thought he saw something as one of the trucks was leaving the gate."

"Hardly a surprise."

"Killer Croc did not return to Command."

Ivy rolled her eyes. "Of course he didn't. I don't know why Rage asked me to create the serum for Croc, only to deny it when he needed it most. If he was testing Batman he's a fool." Katrina flinched when hearing her idol's name used so casually. Ivy was immune to Rage's charisma, among other things.

"Perhaps we cannot know Brother Rage's true intentions." Katrina's words held the slightest hint of scolding.

Ivy rose from her bed and the air around them filled with more invisible, tasteless, odorless, poison. "Tell everyone to gather at the fountain, Katrina."

Katrina bowed and left without a word.

All she needed to do was buy time for the first trucks to reach their rendezvous points. If all went as planned, the country's wheat, rice, corn, and soybean crops would be decimated within weeks. The very fertilizer used to spur their growth would instead unleash a pestilence. Rage had been uncertain at first, having a difficult time believing that Poison Ivy would come up with such a plan herself. But he, like everyone else, did not understand her. What were five species compared to the fate of millions? Such massive destruction was only possible because of the weakened genetic line and the homogenizing of the crop. Most crops had been modified to the point that they could not even reproduce without human assistance. The genetic diversity of the planet was shrinking by the hour and she would make men pay for their shortsightedness.

Righteous though her plan was, she knew that Batman would try to stop her. But he was predictable. Like her, he didn't play well with others. He would see the trucks and let them go to focus on her. Of course, he might send Robin to deal with the trucks, but rumor had it the young bird's wings had been clipped. Too bad, she thought. It was always easier to control one if she had the other. But Batman was probably coming alone. If luck was with her, he might not have even told anyone about her garden yet. Knowledge of her greenhouse and the plague would die along with Batman.

She stretched under the sun lamps of the greenhouse and began making her way to the waterfall she had designed at one end of the long warehouse. Brothers and sisters of Rage would be gathering. Some of them perhaps knew what was coming. The rest would find out soon enough.

Ivy shrieked as her head was yanked painfully back by the roots of her hair. She saw the silver flash of a knife and then felt it pressed against her throat.

"We're leaving," growled a man's voice. He pulled back on her glossy red head, forcing her back through the greenhouse.

Who was this? Where was Batman? No matter, she decided. It's a man. "Am I under arrest?" she asked in her best sultry voice. A tingle rippled through her body as her skin secreted an intoxicating scent. The man didn't answer and for a short time she thought her pheromones were having the desired effect. But as they continued backward and the other end of the warehouse grew more distant, she began to doubt. "Not exactly playing fair," she observed.

"I've been warned about you." This time Ivy heard that the man's voice was muffled. He was probably wearing a protective mask of some sort. Then she noticed the slight itching on her skin. Herbicide. Poison Ivy was too refined to growl, but she got close. Her attacker responded by digging his fingers deeper into the tangles of her hair. He didn't notice that the plants surrounding him rustled despite the lack of a breeze.

Ivy rapidly formed a plan. It was not very elegant, but it would suffice. Her anger altered her chemical pheromones and a toxic haze radiated from her body. The plants in her garden responded by releasing their own poisons into the air. Any human left unprotected would have been clawing at his eyes. The man behind her started rasping, but not as much as she would like.

He coughed and then threatened, "More of that and I light the place on fire."

She laughed. "Do that and it will be one hundred times worse."

"This way." He dragged her sharply to the right, keeping his grip and the knife steady.

Ivy did not try to hid her smile. He thought they would make a quicker exit through the side door. He probably didn't notice that the path to the door was barely two feet wide, crowded with bushes that loomed overhead and vines with blood red flowers. He was probably already congratulating himself on how easy it was to take down the infamous Poison Ivy. The boys on the outside would clap him on the back as a team from Arkham bundled her off into the paddywagon.

"I said stop that," he warned.

The air had grown misty with the amount of chemicals in the air.

"I can't help it sometimes," she said sweetly. "You frighten me and my babies. You see that beautiful plant above you? Genus _Brugmansia_. Sometimes called angle's trumpets. Many people plant them, not knowing that their poisons can cause terror-filled hallucinations. I'm growing them special for an acquaintance of mine. They are closely related to Moonflowers, another fav—."

At that moment Ivy stopped her narrative, grabbed the man's knife hand, and shoved herself and her captor backward. As she hoped, they quickly fell against something. She had to give him credit for holding onto her and the knife. Not a problem. She reached back and clawed at the man's face, laughing as she snagged his eye protection and ripped it off.

The man let go of her hair and the knife to cover his eyes, which were already filling with tears. The toxic haze attacking his senses was actually minor compared to the fact that he was now held fast by thousands of sticky stalks of a mutant _Drosera_ plant. He would be enveloped and drowned by the mucilage of the overgrown carnivorous plant within minutes.

Ivy paused for a moment to watch. She picked up the knife and placed it under his chin, forcing his face up to hers. His eyes were blood-shot but he was bearing up to the toxic air remarkably well. His eyes didn't move a muscle as he made a lightning-fast attempt to take the knife back. It was then that he realized he couldn't move his arms very far. He braced himself to break away from the plant, only to find that moving spread more thick sap onto his hands and arms and made things worse. He stopped moving and did his best to look her in the eye.

"Mary, Mary, quite contrary…," he said.

"How does your garden grow?" she continued the old nursery rhyme for him.

"Sister."

"What?" Ivy snapped. Katrina's appearance was a like a storm cloud in her sunny garden. The _Drosera_ had already covered the man's entire back and was oozing more fast-hardening sap onto his head and shoulders.

"We're blocked in, along with the final four trucks. I took the liberty of distributing the serum."

"Did you now?" Poison Ivy tightened her grip on the knife.

"I also informed Brother Rage that this site has been compromised."

Ivy twisted the knife under her captive's chin. "How many men are outside?"

"More than you can handle."

Was he telling the truth? This man certainly wasn't the brooding loner she had been expecting.

"They've probably stopped your entire shipment by now," he added. "Strange. I always took you for an organic freak."

Ivy smiled. "Oh, but it is organic. Many terrible things are. It's just not the fertilizer they are expecting. Quite the contrary. How many people know the difference between an apple tree and a poison oak? They'll wish they know when the hunger riots start. Imagine it. Millions of people, entire cities, starving for food." She paused to remove the man's mask and head covering, revealing his shockingly white hair… and his lips. "You have only yourselves to blame. All of those engineered plants, pumped full of chemicals, packed as tightly as they can grow, pushed into early harvest… it's unnatural. I'm just doing what Mother Nature would have done in a few years anyway."

"Humans are worse when they're desperate." He paused for a coughing fit. "More plants and animals will die if you upset the balance."

She scoffed. "What balance? One in five plant species faces extinction at this very moment. I am not destroying the balance. I am restoring it. Between Rage's insurrection and my plague, this country's human population is about to be severely pruned."

Only the front of the man's head and chest remained free from the sticky cocoon. It would be a wasted kiss with the end so near, but she was sorely tempted. If she couldn't kill Batman, she could kill his emissary. She leaned in, effusing a heady mix of pheromones and death.

"Go," he wheezed, just before her lips grazed his.

"What?" she asked, pulling just inches away.

The man looked dizzy and struggled to keep his burning eyes open to meet hers. "I wasn't talking to you, Red."


	22. Intoxicating

"_It was a good try, Bannon. We're sending in the cavalry now."_

"Go," he said. He'd been hoping for more time to let Poison Ivy open up about the trucks but the growing sensation that he was about to become plant food was hard to ignore. When she had asked, he was more than happy to let her know that there was plenty of back up waiting to storm the castle. "I wasn't talking to you, Red."

"He's right, Sister. There are teams of men forming outside."

Race watched Ivy's right eye twitch at the sound of the other woman's voice. Even he could tell the toxic vixen wasn't friends with the Sister of Rage. With a frustrated huff, Ivy backed away and turned from Race, leaving him to his fate.

"You say you have already distributed the serum, Katrina?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Then you may as well make use of the followers to free the final trucks. Lead the attack. Send Brother Daniel to me. I have something special for that slime."

"He has already drunk his portion."

This time Ivy gave Katrina the full brunt of her glare.

"Of course, Sister." Katrina hurried away with Ivy following at a more leisurely pace. She turned to give Race one last playful look before disappearing into her garden.

"She's a piece of work, isn't she?" said a voice. A woman whom Race could only assume was Catwoman dropped lightly down into the plants. She took a long look at the plant he was glued to and then pulled a small tool from somewhere within her outfit. (He would theorize more about that later.) She turned on the tiny torch with a flick of her thumb and set to work burning the plant, stalks and all, from the back side of his body. The _Drosera_ plant shuddered as it released him.

When Race was finally able to step away he felt like he had fifty-pounds of crystallized sap armor coating most of his body. Not only did it make movement difficult, he felt more than a little ridiculous in front of Catwoman.

"Thank you," he said as he tried to knock the biggest chunks from his clothing and body armor.

"Just take care of this fast. Rumor has it your cult leader has more planned before sunrise." She looked up to the ceiling and cracked her whip onto one of the struts.

"Not staying for the fight?" he called after her.

"As much as I'd like to see you in action, handsome, someone has to make sure the homes of Gotham's wealthiest are attended to during this time of panic." Her sultry voice lacked any hint of sarcasm.

Only after she was up and through the skylight did Race notice the sounds growing around him, including gunfire. When they had first arrived at the warehouses a combined team of FBI and I-1 agents went after the trucks that had already left. The other team stayed to secure the area. Race volunteered to try and bring things to an abrupt end. It was abrupt all right, but not for Ivy.

Race stretched and knocked more of the crystallized sap from his body so he could unholster a gun. He dropped into search and destroy mode.

"You still listening?" he said out loud.

"_Right here, Bannon."_

"What's going on out there, Robin?"

Robin was overseeing the assault from a high and distant perch. Since professional agents weren't often inclined to take orders from a costumed college student, Robin was relaying tactical suggestions through Race. So far, the kid's assessments and suggestions were spot on. Race didn't doubt that the young man would leap into the fray if needed, concussion or no.

"_About twenty fanatics came out and started putting up a fight. The serum Ivy was talking about would explain why they were so amped up. Seriously, some of them went berserk and started attacking with their b__are hands. If they're trying to get the last trucks out, they're wasting their time. Agents shot out all of the tires."_

"What about stopping the other trucks? Is Ivy the type to keep records?"

There was a pause while Robin thought. _"She hasn't before__ but this Rage character seems to have everyone going off script. Whoa, whoa, whoa!"_

"Robin?"

"_I think Brother Daniel has arrived. He just threw an agent into one of the tankers."_

Brother Daniel. Race remembered Hadji mentioning that name. Speaking of which… He hadn't heard from anyone back at the hospital in a while. He looked down at his wrist and found it bare except for his empty knife sheath and a lot of sap. One thing at a time, he told himself. He would have to find another way to get in touch with them after the assault.

"Ivy?" he asked Robin, wondering where she had gone.

"_Don't see her, but I think I see flames coming from the warehouse north of you. She might be cleaning up shop."_

"I'm ordering the agents there to grab what information they can. I can't take much more smoke and I've got a score to settle with Brother Daniel."

Race took a moment to relay the new orders to the remaining FBI and I-1 agents. While they didn't technically have to listen to anything he said, most of them were glad to leave the monster to him. Race approached the front of the warehouse and could see the hulk of Brother Daniel through the open bay doors. Race didn't know what the man looked like when he was normal, but his guess was ugly. The thing in front of him was hunched over and a giant pustule on his back was leaking a greenish ooze. What hair he had left was in patches on his skull and it looked like the drool coming from the side of his mouth included some of his teeth. Clearly his body wasn't taking well to Ivy's serum. Race watched as Daniel pounded over to an agent who was writhing on the ground in pain.

"Stop!" Race shouted.

Daniel didn't hear him or stop. He grinned as he lifted the agent to his feet and then put a hand over the man's face. The man's screams were immediate and horrible. Race fired several shots into Daniel's body. Like with Croc, the bullets didn't seem to have any effect. Instead of glancing off they punched harmlessly into Daniel's putrefying body.

After the man stopped screaming or moving, the smile faded from Daniel's lopsided face. He tossed the body to the ground. Race could see that the agent's face had been completely eaten away by toxins.

"Any suggestions?" he asked Robin.

"_Besides don't let him catch you? _

"Looked like a chemical burn. I wonder—"

"You again?" Poison Ivy emerged from between the two warehouses and frowned at Race. This time she was wearing a backpack and looked like she was ready for battle.

"Your formula needs work," said Race, nodding toward Daniel.

"Yes, well, it was meant for Killer Croc." That the toxic concoction was killing Brother Daniel didn't seem to bother her in the least.

She raised her arm and a stream of liquid fire shot directly at Race. He dove out of the way at the last second and tucked into a roll that brought him back up facing her. Instead of tracking him, she had already turned her attention to the warehouse and was shooting flames into her garden, coating the dark green leaves and bright flowers with fuel and fire. Almost immediately a thick smoke began billowing out of the front of the building. Race was glad to see the wind was going away from him for the time being.

"_Behind you!"_

Race sensed something just before Robin's voice blared in his ear. He ducked and spun out of the way of a roundhouse punch from Daniel. Then he did a backward roll to put more distance between them. Daniel was just a distraction and he knew it. He would just as soon have left the doomed man to rot, but Daniel must have figured out that Race was the only one left around to hurt.

"_Activity to your left, up in one of the cranes."_

Race looked over but couldn't see anything in the darkness. He did see Daniel making a grab for him. Race easily dodged Daniel's hands but was almost overwhelmed by the chemical fumes coming from the man's pustules and skin. He looked around the loading area for something to stop Brother Daniel, if not contain him. Just then, something exploded in the north warehouse. Race hoped the agents had gotten out with what they needed by then. A faint peppery taste filled the air and Race quickly matched it to the poisonous bombs that had been going off throughout the city.

"Forget this." Race took off, weaving through the various trucks and crates in the loading area and toward the crane Robin indicated. There was no sense in standing around for the next warehouse explosion or monster attack.

Ivy's flames had spread to the roofs of both warehouses and lit up the sky. It was by this light that Race saw the glint of metal a split second before it went swooping by him. He watched as a crane hook smashed into the stainless steel tank on the back of one of the remaining trucks. White liquid spewed from the tank and flooded the pavement. Race couldn't help but notice that a lot of Ivy's concoction flowed down into the sewer drains and through cracks in the cement.

"_I spotted her."_

"Ivy?"

"_One of Rage's."_

"Katrina."

"_I'll take her. Keep her __distracted while I get to the control room. And watch out. She's got another crane going and this one has a shipping container on the line."_

Keep her distracted? Where was Jonny when you needed him? Race looked around and wished he had a flame thrower like Ivy. He finally settled on something he thought would catch the eye of the woman above: he would take away her targets. He ran back into the madness, splashing through the milky pollution, and yanked open the driver's side door of the lead tanker. The agents had done their jobs right and destroyed the tires of the truck, but they didn't do a very good job of securing the area. The keys were still in the ignition. Race turned the key, put the truck in gear, and rolled away. The truck shuddered and squealed on its ruined wheels.

"_It's coming!"_

Race hit the gas and watched in one side mirror as the massive metal container collided with the split tanker behind him. In the other side mirror he saw the entire truck hurtle out of view. Something very heavy crashed into the water in the distance.

"_I think she' trying to knock them all into the water. Whatever that stuff is, we can't let more of it get in the river."_

"Where are you?"

"_Burning through__ the door. One minute or less. Keep those trucks moving."_

The truck was fighting him for every foot but he finally managed to get it up to speed. Then Ivy walked into his headlights. He slammed on the breaks and the truck screeched to a stop. His heart skipped a beat while she simply stood there, one hand on her hip and her hair tossed over her shoulder. The warehouse fire really set off the color of her hair. What was she going to do?

He smelled him before he felt Daniel tug open the driver's side door. Race lashed out and his heel caught Daniel right between the eyes. Daniel's head snapped back but his body stayed in place. He reached up and grabbed Race's left leg. Race felt a warm tingling as Daniel's puss and liquefied skin seeped through his clothing. He turned, braced himself between the seat and the steering wheel, and kicked hard with his other foot. Daniel's head rocked to the side and this time the creature stumbled. Even though he let go, his skin secretion continued to burn its way through Race's clothes and into his skin. Race bit back a scream of pain and fought the urge to rip the poisoned fabric, and some of his skin, from his leg.

"_Get out of there!"_

Race didn't need an explanation. He slid back and threw open the passenger door. He would later say that he dove out, but really he flopped onto the pavement below. He just had time to roll onto his back when the container slammed into the truck with a metallic BOOM and sent it barrel rolling through the air above him. Race listened with dismay as the poisonous tanker splashed into the river, nearly half a block away. Ivy was still standing nearby with her hand on her hip, smiling down on him.

"For an environmentalist, you're pretty reckless about the environment," he said through gritted teeth. His leg was burning something ungodly.

"That? That's a fraction of what this city dumps into the river in an hour. Once the humans of this city suffer and disappear nature will recover."

They both paused as the container finished its expected backswing, sending rotting, dying Brother Daniel rocketing back into the flaming remains of her garden paradise. He was the only one who didn't see it coming.

"I know a woman a lot like you," said Race. "She lives dangerously, only looks out for her own interests, never takes orders from anyone. I doubt she's ever happy either."

Ivy's coy smile wilted. "Happiness is ignorance. I'll never turn a blind eye to the atrocities of mankind."

"Ivy!" They both looked up to see Robin swinging down on a line. He landed gracefully at Race's side and started swinging his bolas.

Ivy quickly dropped something onto the ground and the air filled with a thick orange smoke. While it made them cough violently, it didn't have same the sting of her poison bombs. When the air cleared they were alone.

"Why didn't you try to stop her?" asked Robin between coughing fits.

"How?"

Robin pointed at Race's hand. "You've had your gun out this entire time."

Race looked at it as if noticing for the first time. Had he?

Robin patted him on the shoulder. "Poison Ivy," he said, as if that explained everything. "It happens to the best of us." He helped Race back onto his feet. "Let's go get your leg looked at and find out what's going on with the big man."

"Do me a favor," said Race. "Tell your partner that I think his girlfriend stole my watch."


	23. Evac

Even if Race still had his watch, he probably wouldn't have been able to reach his daughter or the Quests. The Brotherhood of Rage had made slow but steady progress taking out communication centers throughout the city: cell towers, antennas, radio stations, cable companies, internet providers, and phone line hubs. Practically the only thing they left alone was the postal system, for all the good it did at 5 a.m. Things went from bad to worse when two power substations were overwhelmed by the Brotherhood, creating a cascade blackout. Gotham couldn't catch its breath. Emergency teams around the city were seen using outdated walkie-talkies (in some cases children's toys), CB radios, and a few key satellite phone systems. They didn't know if the rising of the sun would bring order or more chaos.

Jonny would never admit it out loud to anyone, but he wasn't entirely sure he should be driving the motorcycle he was on. He was only in third gear and even that had them rocketing through the streets of Gotham. He hoped Jessie didn't feel his nervousness. Since her arms were wrapped tightly around his chest (awesome), she probably did know, but she didn't say anything. Maybe she was too busy holding on for dear life.

In between dodging looters, flashing police cars, and drunken street parties, he glanced down at the motorcycle's map system and saw they were working their way through Coventry. They'd been riding long enough that he decided to pull over on a quiet street so they could take another reading. It didn't really matter where they stopped, so long as they made a good sweep of the city. He kept the bike up while Jessie hopped off and pulled out the handheld digital receiver. She read the numbers off to him and he then relayed them to Robin and the new HQ.

"_How's she riding?"_ Robin asked when Jonny was done reporting.

"Smooth as silk," Jonny lied. Somewhere nearby Jessie snorted. "Thanks for the loan."

"_I'd be out there myself but I'm on my way to patrol at City Hall. For better or worse, the mayor and his staff aren't evacuating. We're expecting trouble."_

Just over an hour earlier word spread that there were a few radio stations and one TV channel still broadcasting, to anyone who had a generator to even power their television. Unfortunately, it was only broadcasting the Book of Rage. Jonny was mildly surprised by everyone's reaction to Ezekiel Rage's mask and robe. Rage had been a part of their lives for so long that his grotesque figure felt like old news. The recorded message was short and repeated every few minutes, just to make sure everyone got the terrible message: ten unspecified municipal buildings in the city were rigged to explode, beginning at dawn and continuing each hour.

So a few empty government office buildings might get blown up… Jonny didn't realize that could mean the police stations, fire stations, FBI building, airport, or City Hall. And he didn't know Gotham General was run by the city.

Barbara was the first to put two-and-two together and told them to start shutting things down. She knew her father would order the entire building evacuated and clear everyone out, no matter who they were or what they were doing to save the city. The hospital was a madhouse within minutes, even in the remote lab areas. People suffering from the poisonous smoke blanketing the city, and just people wanting to be in a place with back-up electricity, had flooded the halls over the course of the night. As soon as the empty buses and ambulances started lining up out front Officer Montoya stepped in just long enough to say that she had been called off to oversee the evacuation. She told them that they could evacuate later, but they would have to evacuate.

Jonny and Jessie immediately worried about how they were going to get Dr. Quest and Hadji out safely. Dr. Quest and Hadji immediately worried about where they were going to find a secure power source to keep up their information center. Everyone began shutting down, dismantling, and packing while they brainstormed and tossed ideas at one another. Benton was pulling his sweater over his head when the answer came to him.

"Wayne Tower."

They all looked at him. No one could argue with that.

"How do we get in?" asked Jessie.

"My Dad might be able to…" Barbara started but then stopped to ponder what communication lines were still working.

Jonny held up his hand to get their attention. Robin checked in so rarely that he sometimes forget they had an open comm line. "Robin says Bruce Wayne owes him a favor. He'll get us in."

"How do we get there?" Hadji, having also changed into his regular clothes, looked pointedly at his crutches leaning nearby and Dr. Quest in his wheelchair.

"Leave that to me," said Barbara. "Finish getting everything back on the carts. I'll be back as soon as I can." With that, she dashed out the door and down the hallway.

They were ready within minutes and found themselves anxiously tapping their fingers.

"We might have to carry this stuff down if the elevators don't work on back-up power," commented Jessie absently.

"You might have to carry me down," joked Dr. Quest. They all looked at him with fresh worry in their eyes. "Just kidding," he assured them. "I would be on crutches if they'd let me. We'll do whatever it takes to get through this."

They returned to their fidgeting.

"We have a problem," Barbara announced as she burst through the door. "There is a small riot in the lobby. People are refusing to leave, some are still seeking treatment, and apparently some are trying to break their way into the pharmacy."

"Looters?" asked Benton.

"To quote Sir Isaac Newton, 'I can calculate the motion of heavenly bodies, but not the madness of people.'" Hadji shook his head.

"There's an officer waiting at the west entrance with a car. It will be —"

"Yes," interrupted Jonny.

Barbara paused to look at him. "Yes, what?"

"Huh?" Jonny looked at her and seemed to remember his surroundings. "Uh, sorry. I was thinking about something else."

"Well shut down that system because he's not going to wait more than a few minutes."

Jonny nodded. "I will." He ripped off the headset and started shutting down the last laptop in the room. Two minutes later, everyone was ready.

"Barbara, lead the way with my dad. Jessie and I can get the carts." Jonny dumped the last of their equipment onto the cart and rolled it toward the door.

"Ready, team?" asked Barbara.

"I've never liked wheelchairs," grumbled Benton.

"Sit back and enjoy the ride, Dr. Quest."

Everyone rolled out as Hadji held the door open.

The elevators were working, to their relief, and they made their way down. When the doors opened on other floors the people waiting outside gave everyone in the packed elevator either a withering or desperate look, but let it continue without trying to get on. The team breathed a sigh of relief when it opened onto the quieter lower level, which Barbara said they could follow to the their exit.

Their relief was short-lived. Just when they could see the exit sign glowing ahead they also heard the sounds of a heated argument.

"This place is being evacuated. People only come out, no one goes in." They saw a uniformed police officer arguing with a small mob of people. Two other officers were holding back a crowd. Barbara knocked on the glass door and then poked her head out.

"Is it ready?"

The officer turned around briefly and then turned his attention back to the crowd. "Hey, Ms. Gordon. Yeah, you can see it off to your right." He didn't have his sidearm out, but his hand kept straying toward his holster. Jonny could see why. While most of the crowd looked pleading, the group of young men he was facing looked like they were there for something else. There was something cocky about the way they were standing and smiling to each other.

Barbara nodded, taking one long look at the group before leading the others out and over to the car. They got the equipment stored in the trunk and Dr. Quest safely in the passenger seat.

"Listen, I'll be right back."

"Barbara?" asked Dr. Quest, recognizing all too easily the tone in the young woman's voice.

The three teenagers took one look at Barbara walking back to the mob and then at each other. By silent agreement they followed.

"Hey, Jess. Stay close to me," said Jonny in a low voice.

"I can take care of myself," seethed Jessie.

"It's something else. Just stay close."

Jessie looked at him but his attention was focused ahead.

"Can I help you with anything, Officer Wilkes?" Barbara asked.

"What can you help with, girlie?"

Barbara turned her back to the leering young man.

Officer Wilkes shook his head. "Just get to somewhere safe. That will make our jobs easier." He looked around in exasperation. "I just wish everyone understood that."

"Hey, Piggie, what's she taking from the hospital there? She might be stealing." The thugs laughed. It was all too clear they weren't at the hospital because they needed help.

There was a loud boom somewhere in the parking lot. It wasn't an explosion, but it was enough to send the tense crowd into motion. Most of the desperate people made a mad dash away from the hospital while the gang chose that moment to rush at Officer Wilkes. Wilkes hesitated, hand on his gun, but then decided not to use it. It cost him time and he caught an elbow in the stomach. He quickly recovered and tackled two of the gang members leading the way through the doors.

Impressive as that was, most everyone's attention was on Barbara Gordon, who quickly downed three of the punks with harsh and well-placed strikes. Jonny would have winced in empathy if he wasn't too busy launching a man in a judo throw. Jonny got back up in time to see Jessie punch a man in the trachea. Only a few gang members were left and they would clearly be handled by Barbara and the remaining officers. He grabbed Jessie's hand and dodged the reflexive punch that he expected. She stopped when she realized who had grabbed her.

"We've got to go," he said, the urgency clear in his eyes.

"Go?"

"Robin asked me to do something. I need your help."

"But Hadji and your Dad…"

"Look at her," he said, nodding at Barbara, who had the mouthy gang leader in a neck hold. "They'll be fine. Probably safer in Wayne Tower than we'll be. Look, we have to go now, before my Dad talks us out of it."

Jessie hesitated only a moment before nodding her trust. Jonny breathed a sigh of relief and, still holding her hand, led her away from the car.

He was stopped by a firm hand on his chest. Hadji had appeared out of nowhere.

"Jonny?" His voice and expression conveyed everything: that Jonny and Jessie were leaving, about to do something stupid and/or dangerous, and were avoiding saying anything to him and their father.

"We have to go do something, Hadj. Set up my computer and connect with Robin. He'll explain everything. Tell Dad."

Hadji's expression darkened immediately at having this responsibility laid on himself. The painkillers had worn off long ago and Jonny could see that his brother was not in the mood for explaining anything. Hadji pushed Jonny away and pulled his arm back to take a swing.

Jonny flinched and tried to avoid his brother's angry punch. Then he heard an unmanly scream and turned to see one of the gang members convulsing on the pavement just behind him. When Hadji pulled his arm back Jonny recognized the stun gun.

Jonny laughed. "Thanks."

Hadji held up the stun gun in a threatening gesture but there was a hint of laughter in his eyes. "Watch out for one another. And find a way to send word before he grounds me as well."

They did check in as soon as they figured out how to work the communication system in Robin's sleek motorcycle (and stopped giggling like children who just found a new toy). Benton ranted impressively for over five minutes, threatening to cancel everything in Jonny's life from that point forward. Jonny took it all in stride, apologized, and then said he had the first broadcast results. Benton gave him the formal "This is not over yet," line and then focused his energy back on being one of the smartest men on the planet.

Forty minutes later they had sent in fifteen more readings of radio and television signals. Pinpointing anything was difficult using only street-level readings in a city full of interference, but they had already eliminated everything north of the Sprang River. They couldn't tell yet if Rage was broadcasting from one or multiple locations, but the data was definitely starting to form patterns. Hadji told them to aim for China Town next and take more readings on the way. With any luck, they would have it narrowed within the hour.

"Look at that," said Jessie, pointing off to the horizon. "The sun is rising." The bombing would begin soon. They both wondered about the fate of the hospital.

Jonny put his visor back down and kickstarted the engine to life.


	24. Grunt Work

Batman had been working his way through the subterranean warren surrounding Cathedral Square for the last hour. He was using a technique that Robin long ago dubbed "soup and sandwiches." When he found a room filled with undesirables he threw in a few smoke bombs, waited until the room filled with smoke that was thick as pea soup, turned on his enhanced vision, and waded in to deliver some knuckle sandwiches. He'd left a wake of at least forty broken or unconscious bodies, most of which had hopefully been wrapped up by Gordon's team, if the commissioner was holding up his end of the plan. So far he was making good progress, feeling pretty focused considering the amount of sleep he'd had. And he hadn't set off any major alarms.

This made him very uneasy.

Why hadn't they raised an alarm? Surely someone must have slipped past him. Where was the security? Where were the heavy hitters? Members of the Brotherhood he'd taken out so far were armed and dangerous, but they weren't trained to keep a perimeter. Were these just the remnants of Rage's fighting force? Was he wasting his time taking out the trash while Rage had already relocated?

Batman shrugged off his unease and continued forward.

"_The tunnel ahead should form a T. Take the right path to continue toward the center."_

Alfred was an expert when it came to knowing when to provide guidance and when to let Batman take care of business in silence. The butler/former secret service agent was using tunnel records from a 1950s overhaul of Gotham's sewers to relay directions. They'd discovered some changes and mistakes in the process, but overall the blueprints were helping. They both assumed Rage had set up headquarters somewhere in the catacombs directly below the cathedral. As he followed Alfred's instructions, Batman was both pleased and disturbed how many of the tunnels he recognized from previous escapades into Gotham's underworld.

He slowed when he heard feet shuffling. It sounded close, but Batman knew the tunnels threw sound around and the man was more likely thirty feet away. He readied a batarang and turned the corner. The hooded man was guarding a rusty metal door. Batman's batarang sliced through the air and struck the man directly on the hand that was toying with the trigger of his Sterling sub machine gun. Batman was on him before he had a chance to even look at his hand. Batman slammed the man back against the tunnel wall, throwing the guard's hood back and revealing a kid who couldn't be much older than Robin. Batman looked at him closely and something triggered in his memory.

"Crews," he growled.

The young man turned white as a sheet, terrified that Batman recognized him.

"Where is Rage?"

Crews, wide-eyed, pointed his thumb in the direction of the door.

"Security?"

The rich kid had probably never been talked to like that before, or so scared. He couldn't find the words. His gun clattered to the floor. When had Batman cut the strap?

"You've got three seconds and then I start making sure you won't be able to hold a gun, not to mention a glass of water, for the next year."

"I don't know!" Crews shouted, finally able to speak.

Batman hoped the metal door was a sound barrier too.

"They just put me here tonight," said Crews. "I've never gotten closer than the next tunnel. They have a scanner there. Only the level 4s and up can get in."

"How many people?"

"Hell if I know."

Rage certainly didn't keep his acolytes well trained or well informed. He seemed to rely on fear and fanaticism more than expertise. Even so, it worked for him. Batman reached into the young man's pocket and pulled out his cell phone. Crews watched as his phone disappeared in a puff of broken glass, plastic bits, and circuitry. Batman threw Crews off to the side, disabled the dropped weapon, and continued through the door.

"_Pardon my interruption, Sir. Robin is reporting that Ivy's stronghold has been destroyed, mostly by her own hand. Eleven of the trucks have been intercep__ted outside of Gotham and the FBI is leading the search for the rest. Poison Ivy escaped but Robin believes her part in Rage's plan is ended. He is on his way to join you."_

"No. Tell him to continue with security and the evacuations."

Batman regretted having to send Race Bannon and Robin to deal with Ivy, but there was no way he was going to trust someone else to deal with Ezekiel Rage. And there were few people who knew the bowels of Gotham like he did. He looked up and noticed the new wiring running along the length of the tunnel, some of it electrical and a lot of it for communications. He followed the wires along the walls, around turns, and through pitch black corridors. Then he turned the corner and the walls opened up into a square hallway. He left the damp of the sewage and water drains behind.

"_I've lost your signal, Sir, and your latest trajectory didn't match any of the maps."_

"Either this is new construction or it's old government. My guess is a bit of both."

"_I'll see what I can f__ind in other databases about government projects in that area of Gotham. It shouldn't take long."_ Alfred's sarcasm was heavy.

"Maybe Dr. Quest and Bannon can access certain records faster. Relay through Robin." He was still upset that Ezekiel Rage was missing even from his records before this mess. "Alfred, if you've lost my tracking signal then we might lose this line soon."

"_Thirty minutes and I'm sending assistance."_

"Just don't call in the big guy."

"_You may not be aware, Sir, but Metropolis and several other large cities are suffering under similar circumstances. Rage's reach extends far beyond our city borders, I'm afraid."_

"Thirty minutes."

Batman continued ahead and reached a corner. He edged up close and peered around it to the far end of the hallway. It was bathed in sickly fluorescent lights and had all the sterile architectural elements of a 1960s government bunker. As he watched, one of the double doors opened backward and a Brother of Rage leaned out to pepper the hallway with machine gun fire. Batman pulled his head back as chips of tile burst from the corner.

The gunfire stopped briefly. "Death comes to all enemies of Rage!" Then it started back up again.

Batman watched patiently as the wall he was facing was pocked with holes. His arsenal was limited and he didn't want to waste the effort on a lone gunman. He took his time preparing the C4. When he could hear at least four more guards gathered at the doors, just beginning to wonder if the Batman had retreated, he threw the explosive. There was a half-second delay from when the bomb stuck to the door to when it exploded. Both doors burst back in a blast of fire and smoke. If Rage didn't already know where he was, he would now.

Batman ran through the tunnel, pausing only to disable weapons and any attackers who were still standing. The gleaming glass and metal, bullet-poof, top-of-the-line security system at the end of the hallway was laughable. His signal cracker had the door open in seconds. He slipped through and continued down the hall, feeling exposed in the gray fluorescent light.

He heard the squelching boots, oiled weapons, and flapping robes of the attack force long before they arrived. He took a little extra time to smash several of the overhead lights so that the tunnel was lit only by harsh patches of light among blackness. That's better. He counted at least eight of them before launching into motion from the shadows.

He grabbed the machine gun of the nearest one and smashed it up into the man's nose. Then Batman ripped the gun out of his hands and brought it arcing around to crack another guard on the side of the head and send him reeling into the wall. He backed up a bit to let in more men and then dodged back among their group, expecting they would hold their fire rather than shoot at each other. All but one of them did, and Batman quickly took him down with a rib-cracking kick to the chest. Then he spun on his heel and grabbed two men by the tops of their hoods and brought their heads knocking together. An enterprising zealot who pulled out a knife ended up broken over Batman's knee. Batman grabbed the last attacker by the hood, jerseyed him, and gave him a palm strike to the chest that sent him sliding ten feet back with a cracked sternum. He made quick work securing them and the area before continuing.

Soon, the long empty hallways gave way to more doors and side hallways typical of a convoluted military complex. Occasionally he heard a door open and close behind him, but when he turned around either there wasn't anyone there or he saw someone in a robe making a mad dash for the exit. If he was where he thought he was, Cathedral square was still at least a block away and he didn't have time to clear all the rat holes.

He passed an open doorway and his boots squeaked on the floor as he brought himself to an abrupt halt to look closer. It was actually an observation room that overlooked a bay just a little smaller than a football field. He swept his gaze across the room and noted at least three dozen Brothers and Sisters of Rage. Only a few of them were armed, acting as guards or overseers, at the perimeter. It was obvious why there were so few firearms in the room. The room was stacked with piles of the poisonous plant husks what were pouring toxic smoke across the city. The workers all wore protective face masks and breathing tanks that made them look alien. They were rapidly loading up small electric carts with the husks, weapons, and explosives and and driving them off through tunnels. Either they were preparing for battle or they were evacuating.

One of the guards spotted him and fired, spraying the wall as he followed Batman's flight across the observation room, out the door, and onto the floor below. More guards rushed forward to form an arc around the Dark Knight. Some of the workers hurried off into the tunnels while others stayed to see what would happen. Batman raised his hand for all to see and turned on the bright flame of his oxy-acetylene torch. The guards looked at each other, at Batman, and at the pile of poisoned husks. They knew better than most the dangers of the poison, protective gear or not. In their worry they ignored the small, innocent looking ball that rolled toward them, until it exploded in a blinding light and set their ears ringing. By the time they regained their senses they realized they were empty-handed, and in some cases sprawled on the floor.

"You've got twenty seconds to clear out before I dispose of these." Batman held up his torch again and the few remaining acolytes hustled to the door. Batman threw another flashbang to keep them moving.

Instead of lighting the plants when the room was clear, he fired his line launcher up at the ceiling. It wrapped around a pipe and he yanked down hard on the line, pulling the old pipe from its fitting and spewing cold water into the room. The spraying water wouldn't soak all of the husks, but it would ruin most of their supply. Batman climbed the stairs back up to the observation room, moving considerably slower than when he entered the underground.

When he reached the doorway he heard a noise behind him. Three adventurous members of the Brotherhood had entered the cavernous workroom from a side door. One of them had a grenade launcher.

Batman dove into the hallway, pressing himself against the cement wall and shielding his face from the heat blast and debris that exploded from the room. Before the dust even settled he saw teams of henchmen approaching from both ends of the hallway. These, finally, looked like the official welcome party. Each had at least six members, men and women, who looked like they knew how to handle their weapons. They had also ditched the restrictive robes in favor of practical black combat gear. Although they all had Sterlings hanging on their backs, it looks like they had opted for other weapons in the close hallways.

The team to his right parted and an older man stepped forward. Batman recognized the lightning canon just before the man fired. The Dark Knight stepped back and felt the hair on his arms rise up as the electric burst streaked past. Two members of the team to his left were thrown back and skidded to the floor twenty feet back. The group quickly closed the hole back up as more guards arrived on the scene.

Batman ducked back into the observation room. The entire room had been blasted loose and tipped forward at a precarious angle, as if it was about to fall to the floor below. Judging by their swearing, the men inside the bay hadn't expected him to return. Batman stayed in place just long enough for someone to get a bead on him and then somersaulted down to the floor. As expected, the room behind him was blasted by another grenade and this time it did fall to the floor. As he straightened up Batman saw members of the Brotherhood standing at the second floor doorway, wondering how they would get down. Three simply leaped down like he had, landing nimbly on their feet.

In the meantime, he wrapped two men up with batarangs and wire. The man who formerly carried the grenade launcher was soon holding his leg and screaming that it was broken. It wasn't. Batman was fairly sure he had only torn three of the ligaments surrounding the man's knee. Batman picked up the grenade launcher and a plan began to form. As much as he wanted to clean house, there was no telling how many acolytes were still swarming the tunnels. Already at least fifteen more angry-looking men and women had entered the room from above and the sides. Now that they he was in the open they wouldn't hesitate to use their machine guns.

Now he regretted opening up the water pipe. He aimed and fired the grenade launcher, sending the explosive directly into the driest looking pile of Ivy's packages of mayhem. Men and women standing close were sent flying across the room or knocked to the floor by the shock wave. Batman put on his gas mask and dropped a smoke bomb, adding his own to the growing billows of Poison Ivy's smoke. Most of the followers of Rage lost all focus on him. A poisonous brew was quickly forming on the floor and Batman wondered if Brotherhood uniforms came with waterproof boots.

Batman was nearly out of the room when he saw a blinding light streak past his shoulder. He suddenly seized up, rooted to the floor. For a brief second, all of the muscles and nerves in his body fired off as the electrical current raced through. He screamed in pain.

It was over as soon as it started, but the damage was done. He collapsed to the floor, utterly spent. Knowing that he might have been killed if not for his insulated suit was small comfort in the moment. He watched, exhausted, as several members of the Brotherhood hopped down from their perches and closed in around him. They carried him off without sparing a glance at their fallen brothers and sisters, lying unconscious or already dead in the toxic water.


	25. We've Been Here Before

"We have him, Brother."

"Of course you do. Bring him." Ezekiel Rage was in a very good mood. He didn't realize that his scarred smile and his unconcerned approach to the Batman made many of his fellow brothers and sisters, native Gothamites, nervous. They knew Rage was crazy, but could anyone really be that crazy? But even if they wondered, that didn't change anything. The Revolution had begun and they must follow Rage into the New Age.

People who thought of the Brotherhood as a cult probably imagined his headquarters as exotic and dark, lined with stone walls, grotesque carvings, cryptic religious symbols, and candlelit shrines. Rage wasn't above these trappings, knowing that power was based in loyalty, fear, and greed, all of which an exotic secret society fostered. The pageantry and robes were part of the show, something he had been exceedingly well-trained to create by the United State Government. But the show only went so far.

The true Brotherhood of Rage lived in their hearts. Those allowed into the command center believed as fully in his dream for the future as he did. They knew that only by bringing mankind to its knees could the fate of the planet truly be saved. When the government marked people as numbers, and the people ignorantly accepted their role as sheep, radical changes were required. Sacrifices were required. The men and women he personally selected for the command center were willing to make them.

There were no shrines in here. Only the cold modern tools of necessity. From the center platform he observed nearly thirty of his Brothers and Sisters at their works stations. Video reports flowed in from around the city, documenting the destruction of the Gotham City Postal Processing Center, three wings of the municipal airport, and the IRS office. The last one, he believed, would not be missed. They had failed at the Courthouse, but it would not survive a second attempt. Other acolytes were relaying orders to various teams in the field, ensuring the disruption of all communication systems but their own. He especially liked to look over to the teams that were monitoring other cities, such as Metropolis, Boston, and Washington, that were also feeling the hot and vengeful reach of the Brotherhood of Rage. A few more weeks of planning and the devastation could have been total and simultaneous. Even so, his brothers and sisters were carrying out their duties with zeal.

Years ago, he thought all of mankind flawed and wished to cleanse the entire planet of its presence. But humans were also intelligent and willful, stopping him from carrying out his mission and evangelizing the Book of Rage. After his failure and months of brooding, he realized that he had been arrogant, believing the vision was his alone to see and bring about. He had followers in the past, but they were just that. Now he had found true Brothers and Sisters. Even Pamela, with her poisoned view of the world, agreed with the Book of Rage.

Rage looked with amused pity at the chained man now being led into the command center. Batman probably believed that in stopping him, Ezekiel Rage, he would stop the Revolution. But it wasn't so. Too many people now believed in the fiery dream of the New Age. The Brotherhood would live on even if he fell. Even those who opposed the Book would assist them in bringing about the dream, willfully destroying each other during their struggle to survive in their shattered world. How easy it will be, Rage thought, to destroy this man and remove one more roadblock in their path to the New Age.

"Welcome, Dark Knight. I have been expecting this meeting for a lot time."

"Rage, you're just one in a long line of angry people who have earned face time with me." One of the Brothers of Rage viciously kicked the back of Batman's knee, forcing him to the floor.

"So I understand," said Rage. "I can see why they are drawn to you, the villains of this city. They eat away at all that is fair in your city, and you try to hold them back. You stop one, but they keep rising from the darkness. They keep returning from the edge just to challenge you. And you take their hatred on yourself, sparing the citizens of Gotham from the worst of their crimes and their wrath. Does it work, Batman? Every day you must wake to new horrors, new nightmares that you didn't think the human mind could even conceive. Is Gotham getting better?"

Batman paused for only a moment and then said, "I will never give up hope for Gotham."

"Tsk-tsk, Batman. That's no answer. Hope is not enough when evil permeates the world. You need conviction. You need action. Don't you see that we want the same thing?"

"We do not." Batman practically growled his answer.

"We want a brighter future," Rage continued, as if Batman hadn't said anything. "What kind of a world is it to live in when people no longer know the names of their neighbors? How many leaders of this city do you know to be corrupt liars? How much sensele—"

"Spare me the speech, Rage. I've heard it before, from people crazier than you. You would kill millions to bring about your "New Age,' an age of destruction and suffering."

"Temporary." Rage waved it off as if the death of millions was no concern. "Once the planet is balanced again, when people are valued as individuals and not numbers, the healing will begin. The few survivors will by necessity be strong, intelligent, and cooperative."

"With you and these soldiers as role models?" Batman scoffed. "You're a coward, Rage. And your 'brothers' and 'sisters' are cowards. Angry at the world, you hide under robes, looking for the magic pill, afraid to face your problems as individuals. Afraid to struggle like so many good and honest people do in this city." Everyone in the room was listening.

"This city?" Rage asked, his benevolent tone replaced with anger. "Why do you think I chose this city? Because it was so easy! Ambition, greed, corruption… Those few good and honest people you speak of slave away for despots they do not see. Their struggles have brought them no where, and many were glad enough to join me. I must admit, though, I thought more of the people of Gotham would gladly join the Revolution."

"The people here are survivors."

Ezekiel Rage shook his head, sadly. "It's not survival, Batman. They hold fast to their shacks, their run-down evacuation centers, and their city government because they don't know what else to do. They have been raised to believe that the problems of the world are made and solved by other people. They believe that they can do nothing."

"Rage, I was born from the streets of Gotham. If I believed that, I wouldn't be here."

"And neither would we." Commissioner Gordon stood at a doorway on the other side of the room. At least fifteen heavily armed members of the G.C.P.D. S.W.A.T. team flanked him. They trained their weapons on all sides of the room, and Rage in particular. "Ezekiel Rage, you and your followers are under arrest. Thro—"

In a fraction of a second, Rage had his finger on a button. It was small, harmless looking, but he immediately had their full attention.

"If you value your lives, you will leave now," Rage announced, speaking to Gordon and his men. Some of the Brotherhood looked like they suddenly wanted to leave too, but they held their ground in the silence. Rage's smile was cold. "All good government installations of the cold war had self-destruct systems, and so does this one. I've even upgraded it. If my finger leaves this button, this entire base and the three block radius above us will be vaporized."

No one moved.

Gordon's forehead broke out in sweat while he formed an ultimatum.

Rage was serene as he composed a farewell speech.

The silence dragged on as the temperature rose in the room.

"Take him."

The voice came from everywhere and nowhere. The response was immediate. Everyone watched in shock as Batman vaulted to his feet and crossed the distance to Rage. The Dark Knight slammed his forehead into Rage's scarred face, crunching bones. No one in the room even had time to to scream as Rage fell, his finger slipping from the button.

Everyone in the room squeezed their eyes shut and waited for the new age, whatever that might be.

Nothing happened. Cult members and police officers alike opened their eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. They exchanged guilty looks among themselves and then with each other. The moment passed quickly. Just when members of the Brotherhood started looking fidgety, they heard the same commanding voice that had given the order to take down Rage.

"To the misguided followers of Ezekiel Rage, in Gotham and elsewhere: I am in control of your computers, your network, your broadcasts, your command centers, and your doors." One by one the computers around the room blinked and then died. "I also control the air entering your rooms and the bombs beneath your feet. When the authorities come to collect you, I suggest you surrender yourselves peacefully."

Batman's chains dropped to the floor and his former guards backed away in fear and wonder.

"Carry on, my brothers and sisters! Continue the fight!" Rage was struggling to his feet.

Batman grabbed him by the throat and dragged him back toward Gordon and his officers. The acolytes who had brought in Batman in chains parted to let him pass. They were soon handcuffed by the police, who were fanning out around the room. The Dark Knight tossed Ezekiel Rage at Gordon's feet and walked out of the room without a word.


	26. The End of the Beginning

The Quest and Bannon families were gathered in Bruce Wayne's guest penthouse (having recently learned such things existed), sitting around a spectacular fireplace. Well rested and well fed, they leaned back to enjoy each other's company. For the moment, they pushed aside worries for the future.

"It's too bad Mr. Wayne wasn't able to join us," said Jessie. "I wanted to thank him for letting me use the most amazing Jacuzzi I've ever seen. After Jonny's driving, I needed it."

Benton cleared his throat. "Yes, about Jonny's driving." He leaned forward and turned his full attention on his son.

Jonny was prepared for this and headed him off at the pass. His face solemn, he said, "Dad, you know I love you and value your opinion." He breathed deeply. "But I don't think Gotham State is the right college for me."

"Thank God," Race said with a sigh of relief that went to his toes. Hadji and Jessie burst out laughing and Benton eventually joined them.

"I've been meaning to ask you, Benton," Race said when the laughter had died down. "Gordon told me about the stunt you pulled on the loudspeakers and said Rage and his men turned white. How much of that was bluffing?"

"Well…" Benton gave it some thought. "I was really speaking for Hadji and Barbara as well as myself. Using Wayne Tower's existing network, Jonny and Jessie's broadcast data and network hijacking, IRIS, and some creative firewall storming in Questworld, we were able to gain control over several of Rage's command centers. We may not have controlled everything I claimed at that time, but we were close."

"And the bomb?" asked Jonny.

"That part we did control. Even so, you should have seen the three of us staring at the screen when Batman moved." They were silent for a time, remembering the tense moment.

"What happened to Rage?" Hadji asked.

"For better or worse, the feds have already whisked him away," answered Race.

"Hopefully for good," Benton said. It was clear nobody in the room was optimistic.

The doorbell rang.

Jonny looked at his dad. "It's not really our place… Do we get it?"

Benton waved him to the door.

"How come Jessie doesn't have to get it?" Jonny grumbled as he got up.

"Because I didn't ground her."

Even though it was probably one of the most secure locations in Gotham, Jonny checked the security display. It looked like a delivery.

"Who is it?" he asked through the door.

"Mr. Pennyworth. I work for Mr. Wayne."

Jonny opened the door wide and smiled sheepishly as he ran a hand through his hair. "Sorry. I guess it's your house, and all. You just never know."

"Very wise of you, young sir." Mr. Pennyworth held up the full sized gift basket in his hands. "Mr. Wayne would like to make sure you are comfortable and assure you that you can stay as long as is necessary." He looked over Jonny's head to the group gathered in the living area. "He sends special regards to Dr. Quest, saying this is a personal, not a professional courtesy."

"We are most grateful," Benton replied, smiling warmly. "We expect to leave tomorrow morning."

"Thanks for the hot tub!" Jessie added.

"Of course, madam."

"Are you Alfred?" Hadji asked.

"Why, yes."

Hadji hopped up from the sofa as quickly as his injuries allowed. "I wish to extend a thank you to you personally from the people of Maine and my homeland." He gave a small bow. "Your baked goods are amazing."

"So I understand. Then you will be quite pleased with my offering." He handed the heavy basket to Jonny. "Is there any other way I can be of service?"

"I don't think so," said Jonny, checking the faces of his family. He turned back to their visitor. "Maybe we'll see you again someday, Mr. Pennyworth."

"Of that, I have no doubt, young sir."

—

Comments/suggestions/reviews appreciated!


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